


Sunshine

by SecretJungle88



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angsty Pete, High School AU, I don't know tags I'm so sorry, M/M, Mark hoppus teaches a music class, Music class, Patrick is 14, Patrick is a ray of sunshine, Patrick plays lots of instruments, Pete is 17, Poet Pete, but he so can, everybody loves patrick, extension music program, highschool, patrick doesn't think he can sing, patrick is a child prodigy, pete is insecure, pete just got out of inpatient, pete's family loves him heaps, they go out for milkshakes lots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-05-01 15:51:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 104,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14524002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretJungle88/pseuds/SecretJungle88
Summary: Pete's just a looming grey cloud, and Patrick's just a little ray of sunshine.





	1. The first day back at school in which Pete hears a lot about the new golden boy and decides that he doesn’t like him very much.

When Pete first heard of Patrick, he was grateful.

If news of Patrick hadn’t been the one gracing everyone’s mouths and screens on the first day of senior year, then Pete was 110% sure it would have been him as the centre of attention. It was better for Pete this way. The crowds weren’t focusing on the kid who had just come out of inpatient at the psychiatric hospital, rather than on some golden boy who was starting freshman year.

Pete didn’t get a chance to meet the kid in the morning, it seemed everywhere he went he was swamped. He was 14, and had started yesterday with the rest of the freshman cohort, but unlike the rest of the freshman cohort, everyone fucking loved him. For starters, Patrick didn’t need to be in freshman year. Hell, Patrick didn’t need to be in senior year. The kid had some serious academic merit tucked under his belt, and from the rumours that Brendon had been texting him, Pete learned that he’d had turned down offers to start college this year. Why? Because apparently the little brat wanted to be normal and make some friends.

He could probably tick that one off his list already, he already had the whole school falling over themselves for him. Everywhere Pete went, in all his classes, all he heard was 'have you seen what Patrick did at lunch?' 'Or Did you hear about what Patrick did in geometry today? Apparently he kicked Mr Campbell’s butt after calling him out for teaching an incorrect method!' It was just Patrick this, and Patrick that. At first it wasn’t too bad, Pete was just relieved the conversations weren’t about him coming back to finish his senior year, but by 5th period it was getting a little old.

By 7th period, it seemed Patrick’s entire life story was known by every student in this goddamn school. He could play any sport at a varsity level. He could ace every class in this school with honours. He could dance (apparently), and yet he was apparently the sweetest little thing that anyone had ever met.

That was the other thing that Pete had heard about Patrick. That he was short. So, so, incredibly short. The smallest kid in freshman year, and probably even looked a little small to be in middle school. The photo being texted around of the captain of the basketball team with his arm around the little guy made him look tiny – his head didn’t even reach Tyler’s shoulders. But that didn’t stop the smile on his face in every photo he’d seen of him.

Patrick, from what Pete had heard, was a little fucking ray of sunshine. That meant that the little grey cloud of Pete could slip under the radar, exactly how he hoped.

\---------

When Pete first met Patrick, he was a lot less grateful.

Everything he’d been told about this kid was that he wanted to be in normal classes with kids his age, despite the fact that he could outwit every single goddamn one of them. But when Pete sat down in his music extension class at the end of the day, and saw all the other kids crowded around a pipsqueak with a guitar at the front, something inside him wasn’t happy.

If he hadn’t been accepted into this stupid music course, he probably wouldn’t have come back to this school at all. This was his one chance, it was the best music course for high school students in the city. He’d worked his arse off to be here, and now this little fucking ray of sunshine had just waltzed in, grabbed a guitar and had everyone spellbound.  
Pete, despite not even talking to this kid yet, hated the fact that he was here. Of all the classes that he could be ahead in, why did it have to be this one? This was Pete’s thing. It had always been Pete’s thing. Nobody else did it like Pete did. This was all he had now; he hadn’t been accepted into his writing course, so this was his only option.  
Now this little ray of fucking sunshine was taking it right out from under him.

The kid was sitting at the front of the room, playing some guitar solo from Professor Hoppus’s electric guitar that nobody was allowed to touch. Except for the golden boy, it seemed. He was absolutely killing it, Pete had to admit, and everyone (including Professor Hoppus) was watching him with awe. He was seemingly having a good time, as told by the smile on his face as he shredded, and finished with a little giggle that made everyone around him laugh.

“Thanks, Patrick.” Professor Hoppus smiled warmly, taking the guitar from the smallest member of his class. “Take a seat up the front here.”

“I won’t be able to see the front if I sit anywhere else.” Patrick giggled. Pete stared at the kid, wondering exactly how he was 14. He didn’t seem 14. In fact, he looked about 10 years old. He was about the same height as Pete’s elementary school aged cousin, he was wearing a bright yellow t-shirt and his voice hadn’t dropped yet either. His honey-coloured hair didn’t help either, especially since it was topped with a little hat. He was a child, essentially. A child with insane guitar skills that had been welcomed into his extension music program.

Pete clearly had his work cut out for him if he was going to be top of the class by the end of this year. That was his goal. Be top of the class and get his name down on some entry forms to some music schools. But he knew to get in he needed some actual credit and experience. Being in this class helped, but he really needed to be at the top of it if he wanted anyone to notice him. He thought it’d be easy, he was by far the best musician in this year level, but Patrick had just arrived and promised to be trouble.

Of all the music classes in the school, it just had to be this one.

They started the lesson by going around the room, introducing themselves and the instruments they played. It wasn’t a very big class, only 8 students, but that was because this program was a nightmare to get into. You had auditions and essays and theory classes, and it was kind of a big deal. It was meant to be for seniors only – seniors that showed incredible talent and potential in the music industry – but it seemed that they’d made an exception.

“I’m Patrick, I like a lot of different genres so I can’t really say I have a favourite, but I play drums, guitar, trumpet, piano, bass, trombone and saxophone.” He smiled, tapping his fingers on his knees as they sat in a circle. “I wanna learn the cello, but it’s bigger than I am, so I think I’m gonna have to wait a little bit before I give that one a go.”

Everyone in the circle laughed, except for Pete, who waited for his turn. The whole idea of reintroducing themselves seemed stupid, he’d been a part of the music program with these exact same kids since elementary school. The music program was a tight-knit group already. Except for Patrick, but he seemed to have been accepted pretty easily. Josh, Brendon and Dallon had already taught him the group’s signature handshake, and Nicole, Hayley and Gerard all were smiling and laughing along with him. It seemed only Pete was being the cynical asshole here.

“So, yeah, I’m Pete, most of you know me already, my favourite genre is punk and I’m a bassist and a lyricist.” Pete twisted the ring around on his finger in an attempt to calm himself, something they’d taught him during his stay in inpatient. “Good to be back. I’ve missed you goofballs.”

“Aww, Pete!” Brendon laughed and threw an arm around his friend. “We’ve missed you too buddy! It’s good you’re back, we might have some actually decent lyrics to sing now.”

Pete chuckled awkwardly, not exactly enjoying the spotlight, but he was doing his best to keep this going because he was genuinely glad to be back in this class and to be with his friends. “Thanks, B.”

“As much as I’d love to have a lovely reunion right now,” Professor Hoppus interrupted his group. “We have a lot of work to get done this semester. We’re gonna be representing the school at the state finals in under two months, so we’ve got some serious compositions to write. Now, Patrick, I know the rest of these guys and I have been working on our songwriting skills for a number of years, but you’re new here. Have you done any songwriting before?”

“Well, I’ve done some little things, but never a whole song, really…” Patrick rubbed the back of his neck. “But I’m excited to learn. It sounds pretty fun.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Professor Hoppus smiled at him, and Pete scowled. This kid hadn’t even written a song before. How on earth had he even gotten into this program then? He probably had rich parents who wanted their darling little academic to be in whatever class he wanted to be, and they probably gave some huge donation to the school or something. He zoned out for a while, coming up with some stupid backstory for Patrick’s parents and how he’d gotten in here.

It was a little bit mean, but as long as it was in his head and not out loud, it didn’t matter, right?

“So we’re gonna start with some song analysis today to get us started-“ The whole class groaned. “But afterwards I’ll give you your tasks for the next couple of weeks. Then we’ll actually get down to making some music, sound good?”

Everyone grabbed their computers out and dragged the chairs back to the desks. Professor Hoppus grabbed his box of songs, and had each student draw one out of the box to analyse. It was the way they’d always done it, and it was a better way of teaching everyone that giving everyone the same song to research. They’d each take one, write a little bit about it and then explain it to the rest of the class.

Patrick hadn’t done this before, and Pete scoffed a little bit when Professor Hoppus had to lower his box a significant amount so he could even reach one of the slips of paper. “Enter Sandman, Metallica.”

The other thing about the box was that it was open to suggestions. Before the program started, all the students were asked to write down a couple of their all-time favourite songs, ones that meant the most to them and made them want to pursue music as a career. And that song was on Pete’s list.

“So, you’ll realise soon enough that these songs aren’t ones I’ve selected like previous years.” Professor Hoppus chuckled. “Something I want you to look a lot at this year is your motivations and your inspirations. I want you to break them apart, bit by bit. Figure out why you admire them, and then I want you to go above and beyond them. You’re all capable of that, or you wouldn’t be in this program.”

Patrick did his little-kid giggle again, and tucked the slip into the pocket of his jacket. “This is cool!”

Pete got ‘Come fly with me’ by Frank Sinatra, and made eye contact with Brendon from across the room. This was obviously his choice, the guy was obsessed with Sinatra. Brendon just chuckled and sat down with his own song to start researching it.

“Now, these have to be done by tomorrow, guys!” Professor Hoppus called. “You’re gonna be doing a lot of work from home this year, so take this as the first taste of an exciting semester to come. An exciting and busy semester, that is.”

Josh and Brendon both groaned and tried to bargain an extra day to do their homework, but everyone else nodded and began packing up for the day. Patrick, who Pete had been keeping a close eye on (He wanted his song treated right, goddammit!), picked his computer up and placed it on Professer Hoppus’s desk. “Finished.”

That was when every pair of eyes in the room landed on him. Patrick just giggled again, clearly used to his kind of attention. Pete got up and walked over, standing behind Professor Hoppus, who started going through his powerpoint slides. “Well… you are…” He smiled up at Patrick. “And it’s done well. I guess that means no homework for you then.”

“Can I take another song from the box?” Patrick asked, taking his computer back. “I mean, I don’t really have anything to do tonight.”

“Sure, Patrick. Take as many as you want.”

Patrick ran eagerly to the box, and pulled out four slips of paper, which he shoved into his pocket with a smile. “Thanks, professor!”

“Y’know, if you’ve got nothing to do this afternoon, we’re gonna go grab milkshakes and stuff to start the semester off right.” Hayley extended a smile to the young teen. “It’s gonna be fun, you wanna tag along?”

“Yeah, that sounds fun!” He giggled again, and Pete sighed internally. This was meant to be his chance to catch up on the drama that he’d missed while he was in inpatient, but he wasn’t going to cause a scene. Patrick was already so excited, and the rest of the group seemed glad he was coming.

All except for Pete. It seemed his reputation as the group’s pessimist wasn’t going anywhere.

\-------

The diner that the group liked to go to to get their milkshakes was nearby, and only a short stroll through the park from the school. They were regulars here, all the staff knew them by name, and all the staff knew their orders by now as well. It was a great relief for Pete to be back here, just like old times. He missed this.

“Hey guys. Pete! You’re back!” Meagan, their waitress, smiled. “It’s good to see you!”

Pete hugged her, and smiled back. “It’s good to be home.”

“Well, it’s not home until I get you a milkshake, kiddo.” She laughed. “Sit down. Regular for everybody?”

“Sounds good.” Brendon nodded. “What do you want, Patrick?”

“Just chocolate, please.” Patrick smiled with a wave.

“Sure thing.” Meagan wrote it down, and looked back up at them. “Is this your brother, Bren?”

“This is Patrick. He’s the newest member of the squad.” Brendon replied with a smile. “He’s 14, but they liked him so he’s in our program now. Super smart, too.”

Patrick just giggled and blushed. “I’m a freshman, I started yesterday.”

“Oh, cool! Well, don’t let them push you around too much. They’re a terrifying bunch when they want to be.”

Nicole chuckled. “Leave us alone, Meg. Look at these little cheeks. Nobody in their right mind would mistreat this little pumpkin. We love him already.”

Patrick giggled again, and Pete found himself growing impatient. He just wanted a milkshake, and he wanted Patrick not to be here right now so they could focus on more important things, like the fact that Brendon had his arm around Dallon, and Dallon was resting his head on Brendon’s shoulder. That seemed like an important detail, and one he was eager to hear more about.

But it seemed the only thing that anyone wanted to talk about was the kid sitting at the end of the table, who beamed out with confidence and seemed to have everyone wrapped around his finger. He was just so goddamn likable. There weren’t a whole lot of people like that, but Patrick seemed to be one of them, and the only person who didn’t like that was Pete.

What was stupid was that Pete didn’t have a valid reason to hate this guy. He was just being nice and doing his little kid thing, and trying to make friends. He couldn’t blame him for wanting to be in a class that matched his actual skill level. Pete probably would end up back in inpatient if they put him in the lower music class.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when his milkshake arrived, and he thanked Meagan profusely before taking a long sip. It tasted like memories, and he smiled as soon as he felt it on his tongue. He thought about all the times his friends must’ve been here without him, when he was in inpatient, and it felt strange to think about. Part of him was worried this morning that they wouldn’t welcome him back, that they wouldn’t want the guy-who-went-psycho back in their group, but it was good that nothing had changed between them.

The only difference was the ray of fucking sunshine sitting down the end of the table, sipping on a chocolate milkshake and raving about how good it was. He glanced over at Pete’s drink and beamed even brighter, if that was even possible. “Chocolate too! It’s really good, isn’t it?!”

“Uh huh.” Pete nodded, not matching the golden boy’s enthusiasm. “That’s why I get it.”

Patrick didn’t pick up on his slightly sarcastic tone, and just giggled. “We’re gonna be great friends. Chocolate people always get along. You’re Pete, aren’t you?”

Pete just shrugged, and stirred his beverage with his straw. Brendon chuckled and patted Pete on the back. “Don’t worry kiddo, Pete’s like an old dog. He’ll warm up to you in his own time.”

Pete had managed to keep everything under control all day, and he was proud of that, but right now his social battery was running on low and he knew he needed to get out of here before he snapped and ruined everyone’s day. So he just handed Patrick a handful of dollars to pay for his drink, and got up from his seat. He was going to leave without saying anything, but hell, he just couldn’t help himself.

“I wouldn’t count on being friends, _sunshine_. See you in class tomorrow.”


	2. The second day of the music program in which Patrick chooses Pete as a partner for a music program and Pete decides that he dislikes him even more.

The next day was double music, which meant that it was going to be a good day. Pete didn’t care about any of his other classes. He didn’t need to care about any of his other classes. All that mattered was music, and making sure he had enough music skills under his belt to get him into a music college. That was all Pete needed, in school, and in life really.

They were welcomed into the room by Professor Hoppus after recess, and got started with sharing the work that they’d done the night before. This song analysis wasn’t easy work anymore, it wasn’t as simple as naming what instruments are in what part of the song. Pete had been up for hours, going over sheet music and picking ‘Come Fly with me’ apart. And judging from the bags under the eyes of his classmates, it seemed everyone else had the same issue.

Except for Patrick, of course, who was as bright and sunny as the day before. He was wearing a yellow shirt again today, paired with a set of light blue overalls and some yellow boots underneath. He was wearing the same hat as yesterday though, and couldn’t help but wonder if his Mom still picked out his clothes in the morning. It was an outfit more presentable for a first grade classroom than a senior one.

Obviously nobody had taught him how to pick out good clothes to wear. Pete didn’t strive to be a leading fashionista, but his black jeans and metallica t-shirt were a billion times better than whatever colourful mess that Patrick had on. Patrick didn’t seem to care though, and just giggled when it was his turn to present his analysis.

“So, I did Enter Sandman first, and yeah…” Patrick plugged his powerpoint slides in, flicking through it. “So what distinguished this song was obviously the guitar intro, but there’s a lot more to this song than that…”

Pete watched Patrick with his fist clenched under the table. He had this anxiety sitting heavy in his stomach that had been there the moment the song had been assigned to him. This song was everything to Pete, it had been there when nothing else was and it had been the guiding light when he’d found himself in dark places. He was terrified of some kid ruining it, and he needed Patrick do a good job on this.

And surprisingly, he did. He talked about the wah guitar fills, the harmonized vocals in the pre-chorus and chorus, and went on to discuss the isolated prayer track and what happened when the distorted guitars kicked in. But what really got Pete was when they got to the lyrical analysis, and Patrick had done his research right.

“So, obviously the first interpretation of the lyrics is that you’re entering into the darkest part of the child’s nightmare, and there’s a lot of evidence to support that, but there’s a lot of deeper interpretations as well.” Patrick flicked slides to one filled with lines and sketches and annotations. “It discusses fear, well, fear of sleep, fear of nightmares, fear of death, fear of the evils of the world, and fear of monsters. Until the sandman comes. The Sandman, in this reading, is the embodiment of your acceptance that you and all your fears will one day perish. Not the knowledge, but the acceptance. Once you have that, the fearlessness follows.” Patrick made eye contact with Pete on that last line, and gave him a little smile.

Pete didn’t know how to respond to that. This was his song, his meaning, his everything. And Patrick had gotten it so _right_. Maybe he underestimated the sunshine kid, but he wasn’t going to let him know that.

“What I found interesting was the reference to a grain of sand.” Patrick went on, changing his slide again. “And the idea that anyone listening to the song is a grain of sand, and we shift amid an untold number of others in the hourglass, always headed for the tunnel that drops you from one existence to the next. It’s gonna be the longest drop ever into the deepest sand. But, once we’ve settled in it, there’s nothing to fear — unless the hourglass gets flipped over and the whole process begins again. Here that’s a touch on reincarnation, which is an interesting topic on it’s own really. But the key is to head there without panic or dread.”

“Was this the one you did entirely yesterday in that 5 minutes before we had to go?” Josh asked, partly in disbelief that the kid had done so much work in such a short amount of time.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s a little brief, but yeah. I did the others, too.”

“We’ll have to listen to those ones another time, Patrick.” Professor Hoppus had this smile on his face. “If we wanna get started playing some actual music today.”

Patrick wasn’t disheartened at all, in fact his eyes just lit up at the promise of making music and he quickly unplugged his computer before sitting back down at his front row desk. Pete just watched his professor’s face as he watched the younger boy. That smile. It was one of awe, of wonderment, of talent. It was the smile that showed that Professor Hoppus believed in Patrick, he thought Patrick had skill.

It was the same smile that Pete used to get before he went into inpatient.

\---------

Pete was sitting up the back of the room, writing down some ideas for his new assignment when the little golden boy approached him. Pete didn’t look up from his notebook, he was on a roll of ideas, and was trying to get everything out of his brain and into words. It was a complicated assignment, and he only had a week, so it needed to be perfect. To be perfect, Pete couldn’t waste any time. Especially not on a little kid dressed in yellow who was standing in front of his desk.

“Hi!” Patrick tried to start a conversation with a little giggle.

“What do you want, Sunshine?” Pete grumbled, still not looking up from his page.

“I was wondering if you wanted to do the assignment with me.” Patrick smiled, his positivity oozing.

“I’m not doing your homework, kid.” Pete told him firmly, flicking the page over and continuing his own work. “Do your own assignment. You’re the one that wanted to be in the program.”

“I don’t want you to do it for me.” Patrick explained, placing the task sheet over the notebook. “Look, you can do it in a pair. And I wanna do it in a pair with you.”

“Seriously?” Pete muttered, still not paying attention. “Go play with someone your own size.”

“Well,” Patrick cleared his throat, and turned to face the rest of the class. “Technically, you are the closest to my size. I mean, Josh is 5’10, Brendon and Gerard are 5’9, and Dallon is a frickin giraffe at 6’3. The only others who are shorter than you are the girls, but they’re already in a pair.” He turned back to Pete. “That leaves you and me.”

“How-How the fuck did you know that?” Pete finally looked up at the kid in front of him.

Patrick just giggled. “It’s just a matter of knowing how many inches tall a desk is, and using ratios and proportions to work it out.”

Pete raised one eyebrow, and Patrick just giggled again. “So you’ll work with me?”

“Why would I even want to?” Pete asked, looking down at the younger boy condescendingly. “You haven’t even written a song before.”

“But you have.” Patrick said. “And you’re good. Everyone says you’re good. Apparently, you’re the best here. And, if you’ll let me, I’d like to learn from you.”

Pete considered for a moment. “What instruments did you say that you played?”

“Drums, guitar, trumpet, piano, bass, trombone and saxophone”

“You’re happy to write a punk song with me?”

“Course!” He giggled. “I can be punk rock!”

Pete snorted. “Sunshine, take a look in the mirror.”

“Punk bands create fast, hard-edged music, typically with short songs, stripped-down instrumentation, and often political, anti-establishment lyrics.” Patrick recited with a smile. “There’s nothing in that definition that says you can’t wear bright colours. And hats.”

“Do you even like punk music?” Pete questioned.

“Uh huh.” Patrick nodded. “How do you think I wrote a detailed analysis of your song in 5 minutes?”

“How did you know that was my song?”

Patrick just gestured to Pete’s Metallica shirt. “It’s obvious, really. Not to mention the glare you gave me when I drew the slip out, the scowl when I finished early, and the fact you were clenching your fist while I was presenting. You wear your heart on your sleeve.”

Pete scowled, and folded his arms. “I’m not gonna work with you if you’re psycho-analysing me every 5 seconds. I’ve had more than enough of that for one lifetime.”

“Fine, fine, I’m sorry.” Patrick held his hands up, looking genuinely apologetically. “If I promise not to psycho-analyse you, and I write a cool punk song, will you work with me on this assignment?”

Everything in Pete’s mind was yelling at him to say no. This wasn’t a class where he was working with people. Everyone in this room, despite being his best friends, was his competition. He’d missed a lot while he was in inpatient, and he needed to work his arse off to claw his way back to the top.

But his heart saw the little kid dressed in yellow who just wanted to learn a little about songwriting, and Pete sighed. “Fine. I’ll work with you.”

“Yes! Thank you!” Patrick giggled, jumping up onto his toes. “You won’t regret it!”

“We’ve got a lot of work to do.” Pete told him firmly. “We’ll meet after school at the café where we got milkshakes yesterday to discuss ideas. Come ready to work.”

“I spent all my pocket money on yesterday’s milkshake…”

“We’re not there for the milkshakes, Sunshine. We’re there to work.”

“Right.” Patrick nodded. “Got it.”

“Good. I’ll see you after school.” Pete grabbed his bag and pushed past him to leave for lunch.

\---------

Pete wasn’t the only one to have the idea of meeting at the café after school to work on the assignment. Brendon and Dallon had the corner booth already, and Nicole and Hayley had nabbed the good spot near the window. Pete sighed and took the seat next to the jukebox, setting his computer up and ordering a cup of strong coffee. He was gonna need it if he was gonna be working with the sunshine kid for the next hour or so.

Everything about this task was complex. He had a week to write a three-minute original composition. As if that wasn’t a difficult enough task, he had to write it in relation to one very long and complex speech about music. He gathered his mess of papers and placed them all over the table so he could see them, things highlighted and crossed out and everything chucked into a huge mess by the time that Patrick arrived.

“You’re late, Sunshine.” Was all Pete said as Patrick approached the table.

“Seniors get to leave half an hour early, remember?” Patrick sat down across from him. “I came as fast as I could.”

“Right.” Pete grumbled. “Why do they keep you back anyway? It’s not like you need to be there. You’ve done it before, haven’t you?”

“Uh huh. But it’s hard to make friends with other freshman when you’re 7.” Patrick opened his backpack and pulled his own notebook out. “So I’m doing it again because I’ve decided that I don’t like being lonely.”

Pete glanced up at him. “So, technically, you could be in college right now...?”

Patrick smiled back with that cheeky glint in his eye. “Technically I already have a degree in advanced finance and economics, with honours, but that wasn’t really my thing.”

“Seriously?!”

“Well, yeah.”

“Why did you do it if it wasn’t your thing?”

Patrick groaned. “Everyone wanted me to, you know? When you’re 10 and you’re offered a full scholarship and literally everybody on the planet wants you to go to college to ‘live up to your potential’, you don’t really wanna say no. I just wanted to make everyone happy. Now that I’ve done that, it’s my turn to make myself happy.”

“By coming back to the hell that is high school?”

“Uh huh.” Patrick giggled.

“Right.” Pete mumbled. “Anyway, enough talk, we’ve got work to do.”

Patrick nodded and grabbed the task sheet. “So, the John Cage speech… did you look it up?”

“Yeah.” He handed the piece of paper over. “I’ve gone over it and highlighted important bits and stuff, but feel free to add.”

The excerpt was short, and Patrick read it silently once, then aloud. “Wherever we are, what we hear is mostly noise. When we ignore it, it disturbs us. When we listen to it, we find it fascinating. The sound of a truck at 50 m.p.h. Static between the stations. Rain. We want to capture and control these sounds, to use them, not as sound effects, but as musical instruments. Every film studio has a library of »sound effects» recorded on film. With a film phonograph it is now possible to control the amplitude and frequency of any one of these sounds and to give to it rhythms within or beyond the reach of anyone's imagination. Given four film phonographs, we can compose and perform a quartet for explosive motor, wind, heartbeat, and landslide.”

“I know Brendon and Dallon are going to try and incorporate all those elements into a song.” Pete took the paper back, and rested it beside him on the table. “But I think that that’ll just end up messy. It’s only a 3 minute song.”

Patrick nodded in agreement. “I think what the professor’s looking for is something that responds more to the concept of the speech. Like… well, I think it’s talking about how all noise is music and how when you embrace the noise and appreciate it’s characteristics, then it becomes music. Then it discusses the role of the musician, too, and how they can use the noises and give it rhythms and make songs that wouldn’t be possible otherwise…”

Pete was silent for a moment, before sliding a piece of paper over. “Write that down.”

Patrick did.

\-----------

They lost track of time in the café, working on concepts and deconstructing the speech. By the time they packed up and were on their way out, it was already dark.

“Shit.” Pete muttered. “Mom’s gonna kill me.”

“Mmmm.” Patrick murmured in agreement.

“Oh shit, you’re probably gonna be in trouble.” Pete looked down at his assignment partner. “You’re just a kid.”

“I’m 14!” He defended, before giggling.

Pete sighed. “C’mon Sunshine, let’s just go back to school and I’ll give you a ride home.”

“You drive?”

“I’m 17, kid.” Pete muttered, quickly crossing the road. “Yes, I drive.”

“Huh.” Patrick smiled. “Okay, cool. But I don’t need a ride, I live like 4 streets from the school. It’ll take me two minutes to get home, and the shortcuts and stuff mean it’s actually faster to walk.”

“Yeah, but you’re like, you.” Pete gestured to his weird little outfit. “You’re practically asking for a paedophile to grab you or something.”

“I’ll be fine, Pete.” Patrick responded. “I walk home all the time. It’s safe.”

They reached Pete’s car, and Pete slung his bag into the backseat. “Last chance, Sunshine. You want a ride home or not?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

“Alright, see you then.”

Patrick stood on the edge of the curb and watched until Pete’s car was no longer visible before turning to walk home.

\------

Pete’s mother tackled him in a hug when he walked through the door. “Where on earth have you been?!”

“Sorry, Mom.” Pete chuckled awkwardly. “I was working on my assignment at the café. You know, where I always hang out?”

“You could have texted me!” Dale pulled away and cupped Pete’s face in her hands, before hugging him again. “I was getting so worried!”

“I’m fine, Mom. I’m sorry I didn’t text.” Pete kissed her cheek, before pulling away. “I’ve got some more schoolwork to do.”

“Not before dinner, you don’t!” She defended with a laugh, grabbing the hand of her youngest son and pulling him to the table. “We’ve been waiting for you, I made casserole!”

“Right, right, sorry.” Pete chuckled, sitting down next to his sister. “Sorry.”

Hillary glared at her brother, kicking him under the table. “You have to text. Mom thought you’d tried to off yourself again. She was half an hour away from calling the cops.”

“Hillary!”

“It’s the truth!”

Pete sighed and glanced down at his lap. “Sorry, guys. I just, I’m trying to get a lot done for the music stuff, and I lost track of time. It won’t happen again, and I promise I won’t turn my phone off again.”

“Thank you.” Dale kissed his cheek as she brought the casserole ditch over. “Sorry for freaking out.”

“No, it’s okay, it’s understandable.” Pete mumbled uncomfortably. Despite the fact that he’d gone through recovery and he was doing so much better now, the fact was that his family still struggled with the memories of what he’d tried to do to himself. No matter how many times he explained he didn’t have those feelings anymore, they still worried.

Pete didn’t mind. They just loved him and wanted him to be safe and happy. That was all anybody could ask for in this world.


	3. Thank God It’s Thursday and Pete and Patrick are starting to develop an unhealthy after-school milkshake habit while they work on their music assignment.

Thursday was Pete’s favourite day of the week. Not only was there double music again on a Thursday, there was no math class on Thursday.

God, Pete hated math class. There were some things that came easily to Pete, like writing, reading, and playing music. But numbers made no sense to him. He was absolutely useless in math class, and had been failing it since middle school.

But that didn’t matter because it was Thursday, and Pete didn’t have math class on Thursday. Just English lit, chemistry and music, with study hall in the afternoon. He just had to survive his first two classes and he could finally breathe for the rest of the day. 

If it wasn’t for Pete’s Mom, he probably wouldn’t even try in his other classes. He didn’t need to – music was the career that he was setting himself up for, and he wouldn’t need to be writing Shakespearean essays or chemistry assignments on the road while touring. But his Mom always told him how smart he was, how he needed to _apply_ himself in his classes, so that he had a backup plan if everything went down the toilet. He knew he wouldn’t need one, he was gonna make music his job no matter what, even if it killed him, but he loved his Mom so he did put some actual effort in.

That still didn’t mean he liked it though.

It was a slow morning of subjects that he did try in, but didn’t achieve in. By the time it was lunch, the only thing Pete was running on was the thought of sitting down and playing the demo to that he’d made last night to Patrick. He was getting desperate, he wanted to hear what Patrick had come up with as well. So he decided to do something he never did. He was going to brave the cafeteria to find him.

Pete didn’t like crowds. He liked to be up on stage and talking to crowds, but he didn’t like to be in them. It was noisy, sweaty, full of germs and a generally unpleasant place to be. As such, he avoided the cafeteria with his life, and generally ate his lunch in the small grassed area outside the science labs. Today, he just took a deep breath, held his arms at his side and walked over to where he knew the freshman to sit.

In his desperation, he’d forgotten that Patrick was practically the most popular kid in school. He recognized him immediately (The bright yellow hat was a bit of a giveaway), sitting with a group that ranged from some of the other freshman to seniors that Pete had known for years. All of them were laughing along with him, and he seemed to be having a great time.

Pete felt bad. He shouldn’t be asking Patrick to leave this to work on the song. Just because Pete didn’t want to be the star of a stunning social life didn’t mean that he had the right to take it away from the golden boy. He turned around and was about to head back to his little patch of grass, when he heard his name. “Pete! Hi!”

Patrick’s little giggle was immediately recognizable, and Pete winced, slowly turning around. “Hey, Sunshine…”

“Come sit over here with us!” Patrick got up and ran over, revealing today’s outfit of a yellow hoodie over a darker yellow t-shirt and black loose jeans with yellow sneakers, all topped with a yellow hat. The yellow kid grabbed Pete’s hand and led him over, clearing him a space in the middle of the table and welcoming him in to the conversation.

Pete was too far in to this mess to back out now. He just had to survive the next 10 minutes until lunch was over. He just had to sit here in silence for the next 10 minutes. Or maybe just 2 minutes, then he could say he had to go to the bathroom and could get out faster. This might’ve been Patrick’s social scene, but situations like this make Pete’s chest tighten and his heart pound in his chest.

“So how do you know Pete?” Andy, one of the other seniors, asked, kicking his feet up on the table.

Patrick just giggled. “He’s in my music class. He’s teaching me about songwriting. He’s _really_ good.”

“Hell yeah, he is.” Brendon appeared out of nowhere on the other side of Pete. “Apparently there’s music schools looking to put him on scholarships and shit. He’s got real fucking talent.”

“T-thanks guys…” Pete stammered, tucking his arms in closer to avoid touching anyone.

Patrick, hearing Pete’s nervous stammer, looked over at his music partner. It didn’t take him more than a second, he looked at Pete’s arms, then the expression on his face, and read him like a goddamn book. “Hey, Pete, we should go get started on that song, right?”

“U-Uh, yeah…”

“Okay, see you tomorrow guys!” Patrick waved goodbye to all his other friends, before grabbing Pete’s hand and leading him straight through the crowds out to the courtyard near the music block. 

Pete had never been more relieved to be out of a situation in his life. He sat down on a bench and fumbled for his water bottle, taking a few sips while Patrick leaned on a post nearby.

“Sorry about that, I didn’t realise.” He murmured. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Thanks for like, getting me out.” Pete mumbled in reply, taking another sip of water. “You don’t have to stay out here with me, you can go back to your friends.”

“It’s okay, I’ve been with them all lunch.” Patrick assured, pacing around a little to pass the time. “So…. How’ve you been since yesterday?”

“Yeah, fine.” Pete answered uncertainly. “You?”

“Pretty good.” Patrick responded with a smile. “I kicked butt in dodgeball this morning, that was fun.”

“How’d you manage that? You’re like, not even five foot yet.”

“It’s all in the technique.” Patrick giggled, jumping around excitedly at the memory of his game. “And that and knowing how fast the ball is going after your opponent throws it and the distance it has to travel, and how fast you have to be to get out of the way.”

“So you just turn it into math?” Pete frowned. “That sounds boring.”

“Not when you beat the kid who’s six foot.” Patrick giggled. “He was cool though. We shared a Gatorade in the locker room after.”

“I seriously cannot imagine you playing any sport, Sunshine.” Pete had to laugh. “You’re tiny. Not that that’s bad, I mean, tiny can be good, but it’s not necessary a desirable sportsperson trait.”

“My arms and legs aren’t long, but they sure are speedy.” Patrick just smiled. “Tyler’s trying to get me to join the basketball team, but that’s not really my scene.”

“Are you good at basketball?”

Patrick shrugged. “You could say that.”

“Like, how good?”

“Well, let’s say that yesterday at lunch, there was a bet going around of Tyler versus Me, and we had a game between us, and I beat him 63-1?”

“Shit.”

Patrick just giggled again, looking down at his shoes. “It was just to earn Brendon 5 bucks. I might be good at sports but I don’t love them. It’s just too sweaty.”

“Well, I have to say, I’m not surprised about Brendon.” Pete laughed. “C’mon, let’s head in to music, we’ll be late.”

Patrick’s excitement returned, and he practically bounced into the music room. Pete found it rather amusing to watch him bounce around between everyone else, greeting them, giving hugs and high-fives, and generally acting like a little kid, when in actually he had such an incredible mind underneath that little yellow hat. He’d taken one look at Pete and realised that he wasn’t okay in that crowd of people. Even Pete’s own mother couldn’t do that.

“Alright guys, you’ve got this time to work on your assignments.” Professor Hoppus walked into the room exactly as the bell rang. “Now, this is a big task, and you’re gonna be expected to put a lot of your own time in. For a lot of you, that means working on the weekend. I’m not gonna step in and organise it for you, you’re all big kids now, so make sure you’re making any arrangements that need to be made today.”

Patrick had zoned out after the first sentence, and had set himself up at the grand piano in the first practice room. It was a monstrous thing, and it made him look even smaller, if that was possible. Pete grabbed his computer with the mixing software and headed in as well, opening the file he’d slaved over last night.

“So, I know when we were at the café yesterday, you told me to do it on the computer, but I haven’t ever made computer music before and my wifi wasn’t working right so I couldn’t look it up.” Patrick placed his hand down, playing the first chord. “So I kinda, I just kinda wrote everything traditionally and figured I’d show you now.”  
Pete looked at the pile of sheet music that he’d been handed. All of it was just on plain printer paper, but the staffs had been hand-ruled. There were at least 100 pages in this stack, all double sided and marked with the instrument that they were meant for.

“You did all this last night?” He asked, mostly in disbelief as he flicked through it.

“It’s just some rough ideas, nothing permanent.” Patrick switched chords and put his other hand down. “I dunno, you can flick through it and stuff. I wasn’t sure. Hey, do you know if the professor has something I can put on the pedals so my feet can reach them?”

“You’re gonna have to ask him…”

Patrick raced out of the room, and returned a few seconds later with some tissue boxes and some masking tape. It took him a minute to adjust the piano, but once it was done, he was up and playing. And the sound coming out of it was marvelous.

The rooms were meant to be soundproof, but they only really worked to an extend. And for the grand piano, it drew quite a lot of attention as Patrick played. Professor Hoppus was the first to watch him through the window, and slowly the rest of the class came out to see what the commotion was. Patrick just had this rhythm as he played, blocking out everything else as he moved his fingers over the keys.

Pete was speechless.

When the song was over, the class started applauding. Patrick went pink, and giggled when he realised the attention he was getting. He didn’t bow or anything, but tipped his hat at one point and the girls cheered for him. Pete just looked down at the stack of handwritten music, and looked at the little boy dressed in yellow in front of him. It was hard to believe that this much had come out of his little head.

“So, yeah, just rough ideas.” Patrick sat back up on the stool. “I dunno, I wanna hear what you did.”

“It’s nothing like that, sunshine. That was…. Something else.”

“Aww, thank you!” He giggled. “But I doubt it. I’m sure yours is pretty good.”

Pete just hesitantly handed his laptop over with his headphones and hit play. Patrick watched the screen, all the layers of sound and tapped his foot along with the beat. When it got to the chorus, he broke out in a huge grin. “That’s awesome, Pete!”

“Well, I mean, it’s just a rough mix.” Pete shrugged, not wanting to reveal how long he spent on it last night.

“Oh, no…” Patrick took his pile of papers back. “You wanted a punk song, didn’t you? Oh, no… This won’t… dammit…”

“Hey, piano can be punk?” Pete offered with a hesitant smile. “What you did was amazing, Sunshine.”

Patrick was just muttering to himself in frustration, before dropping his very big stack of music into the trash can. “Sorry, that was, I can’t believe I forgot that.” 

Pete ran over and quickly fished them out. “You can’t get rid of these! Look at all this work you did!”

“Yes, but it’s the _wrong_ work, Pete.”

“It’s not wrong. Because we can take it and work from it. We can use these melodies, and go from here, and switch some keys and some notes and boom, punk song.” Pete shoved the papers back into his school bag. “You are _not_ getting rid of these, sunshine.”

Patrick sighed. “They’re not great. I don’t know how they sound together. I don’t know how to do anything cool like this;” He gestured to Pete’s laptop, “So everything is kinda off the top of my head.”

“Yeah, but from what I’ve seen, you have a pretty amazing head.”

Patrick scoffed and sat down, picking the laptop back up. “This is cool, and this is genuinely useful.”

“Not saying that what you didn’t _isn’t_ useful,” Pete stated. “But if you wanna learn, I’ll show you how to mix this afternoon if you wanna meet at the café like we did yesterday.”

“Really?!” The enthusiasm was back.

“Yeah, sure. You can’t be a composer without knowing how to use this stuff nowadays. Do you have the stuff downloaded from Professor Hoppus?”

“Yeah, he gave it to me on the freshman introduction day on Monday.”

“Sweet. Then we’ll meet after school. Bring your computer.”

“I’m excited already!”

“Good. I’ll see you there.”

\---------------

Pete ordered them both chocolate milkshakes when he arrived, taking the best booth up the back for them to sit at. He took his next dose of his meds and shoved the bottle back in the bag, and just focused on going through Patrick’s sheet music while he waited for the sunshine kid to arrive.

They weren’t simple sheets of music. These were works of art. All of them had titles, complex music and annotations underneath about what they were meant to represent. Pete got to work digitizing all of them, and making sure to back them up on the cloud was well. These were seriously good, and playing them back once they were all uploaded brought them to life.

He’d seriously underestimated Patrick’s musical ability.

Pete was still working through the sheets when Patrick walked in and sat down beside him. “Whatcha doing?”

“Listening to your work.” He smiled, glancing down at the younger boy. “Hey, that milkshake’s for you.”

“Is it?! Thank you!” Patrick exclaimed gleefully, grabbing the cup and taking a long sip. “Thanks!”

“That’s all good.” Pete chuckled. “Hey, so what I’m doing here is I’m putting these sheets into the software so I can play it back and listen to it with other loops.”

“Huh. Interesting.” Patrick peered at the screen with interest, still sucking away at his milkshake.

“So get your computer out, I’ll show you how to do it.”

Patrick just giggled. “Thank you for showing me this stuff.”

“We wanna do well on that assignment, right?” Pete smiled down at him. “It’s no problem.”

\----------

Pete made it home before curfew (which was sundown), but that didn’t stop his mother and sister from pelting him with questions about where he’d been and who he’d been handing out with.

“It was nothing exciting guys, honestly.” Pete assured them as he took a bite of his dinner. “Patrick and I just went to the café to work on our music assignment. I taught him how to use the mixing software. Just boring stuff.”

“Who’s Patrick?” Dale asked, rubbing her son’s arm excitedly. “Are you making a new friend?”

“Mom.” Pete glared at her. “I’m 17. You don’t need to say that every time I tell you that I talked to someone new.”

“You’ll always be a little boy to me, Petey.” She chuckled. “But is he a friend now?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” Pete sighed with a shrug. “I think he regards me as one. He’s a bit of an oddball though, so I’m not sure.”

Hillary choked on the bite she was currently chewing, and slammed her hand down on the table. “Are you telling me that you’re doing a fucking music assignment with _the_ Patrick Stump?”

“Language, Hill.”

“Well, I mean I don’t exactly know his last name, but if you’re talking about the little yellow dude, then yeah.” Pete took another bite of his own food. “I keep forgetting you’re a freshman. You know him?”

Her eyes widened, and she slammed her other hand down on the table. “Seriously?! You’re friends with Patrick?! Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“He sounds like he’s built quite the name for himself.” Dale remarked.

“He’s amazing, Mom.” Hillary bubbled. “He’s _super_ smart. Like, he finished high school already, and then went to college, and then came back because he wanted to do it with kids his age! And he’s _super_ good at sports, I watched his smash Tyler in basketball 63-1, but the 1 was a sympathy point because Patrick wanted to be nice. And he can dance, and he’s in Pete’s fancy music program, and he’s just _amazing,_ Mom.”

“Do you have any classes with him?” Pete asked.

“He said hello to me in biology.” She giggled. “But we have math together too. He’s super good, and he like, corrects teachers and stuff and it’s super funny.”

“He sounds nice.” Dale smiled warmly at her children.

“Yeah, but he also acts like a little kid, wears only yellow stuff and is barely 5 foot tall.” Pete added. “He’s interesting, that’s for sure. I mean, one moment he’s giggling because you’ve given him a milkshake and the next minute he’s telling you about the history of the wah wah pedal and it’s just, well, incredible really. I underestimated him. He’s gonna be trouble later in the year.”

“What, in music?”

Pete nodded. “He’s good. Really, really, good.”

“Not as good as you though.” Dale pinched her youngest son’s cheek, and Pete went red.

“Thanks, Mom.”


	4. It’s finally Friday and Patrick is introduced to the ritual of Friday night hangouts at Brendon’s house.

Pete was shoving all his schoolbooks in his bag on Friday morning when his younger sister entered the room and sat down on his swivel chair. “Whatcha doing?”

“Getting ready for school.” Pete muttered. “Like you should be?”

“I’m already ready.” She responded. “Hey, you know how you said you were friends with Patrick now?”

“We’re partners on a project, Hillary.”

“Yeah, close enough. Anyway, has he said anything about me?”

Pete turned and looked up at his sister, before raising one eyebrow. “You like him?”

“Well, I mean, I just wanna know if he’s said anything!” She defended. “He’s cute, you gotta admit.”

“He’s cute in the same way a kid in first grade is cute, Hill.” Pete sat down on his bed to face her. “Seriously?”

“He’s super smart, and he treats everyone so nicely, and he’s so funny, Pete! I’m gonna ask him to be my biology partner today.” She giggled to herself. “Has he said anything?”

“No.” He responded flatly. “We don’t talk about that kind of stuff. The most I know is he’s doing highschool again to make friends.”

“Is he looking to make more than friends?”

“I don’t know, Hill!” Pete threw his arms up, feeling a little embarrassed. 

“Well, can you ask?”

“No! Get out!” Pete held the door open.

“Fine, I was just asking Pete!” Hillary grabbed her bag and walked out.

\------------

“Do you wear any other colour?” Pete asked with a weird smile on his face as Patrick approached him in music. “All I’ve ever seen you wear is yellow.”

Patrick’s outfit today consisted of his yellow boots outside of blue skinny jeans, with a yellow button-up shirt and a darker yellow cardigan, topped with his signature yellow hat. 

“Do _you_ wear any other colour?” Patrick responded with a knowing smile. “All I’ve ever seen you wear is black.”

“Yeah, but like, I wear different shades of black, like grey and stuff.” Pete defended, folding his arms.

“I wear different shades of yellow.” Patrick giggled.

“And there’s like, blue and stuff on the t-shirt…” Pete pointed to the design he was wearing today.

“And there’s like, blue and stuff on my jeans…” Patrick responded in the same fashion.

Pete just poked his tongue out and sat down. “God, I cannot imagine what your closet must look like.”

“Actually, I think you can, and I think you already have imagined it.” Patrick sat down beside him and pulled his computer out, before turning it on. “And I can tell you now, you’re probably correct.”

Pete just smiled and rolled his eyes. “Alright, Sunshine, did you do any work on the song last night?”

Patrick nodded and handed Pete his yellow headphones, opening his six demo files. It was hard to sit still and do nothing while Pete listened to it all, so he headed over to the instrument cupboard and grabbed one of the acoustic guitars.

Patrick played a lot of instruments, but this one always felt special to him. It wasn’t his darling one back home, but it was close enough, and he gave it a quick tune before strumming at it mindlessly. The weight was comfortable on his lap, but he was careful to play it quietly. He didn’t want it to turn into a show like the piano had yesterday.

“Holy shit, sunshine…” Pete whispered, taking the headphones off. “You did this all last night?”

“Uh huh.” Patrick responded, still strumming mindlessly at his instrument. “Which one did you like?”

“Well, I mean, probably the third one. I like the bass line, and the vocal harmonies. Hey, who did you get to sing those?”

“No one, they’re just the preloaded ones on the software.”

“No, they’re not. I’ve been using this since I was 12 years old and I can tell you now, they don’t belong to the software.”

“They’re my brother’s.” He responded quickly, not lifting his fingers from the strings. “My brother’s a really good singer. And he can play violin pretty well too.”

“Does he go to the school?” Pete asked, growing interested.

“He’s in college now.”

“By college, do you mean he’s like you and is actually some kind of child prodigy and is in college at a ridiculous age, or do you mean he’s an actual college student who’s like 18?”

“Kevin turns 20 in two weeks.” Patrick sighed, still not turning around to face Pete. “An ‘actual’ college student or whatever you called it.”

Pete started to realise he’d offended the kid, and the guitar chords were the only sound for a minute as he tried to figure out what to say. “Sorry, sunshine, I meant, like, is he older or younger than you? I didn’t mean to make it sound like that.”

“It’s all good, Pete. Don’t stress.” Patrick’s chirpiness was back, but for some reason Pete didn’t _quite_ believe it this time. “So, number three. I didn’t mind that one, but I did think that the guitar riff from five was particularly cool, especially for a punk song.”

Pete opened the file and listened to it again. “Yeah, it’s not bad. Do you reckon we could distort it a little more though? It sounds a bit flat.”

Patrick turned around, playing the riff on the guitar on his lap. “Yeah, actually, that’s a really good idea!”

Pete smiled and nodded, getting to work on updating the files. Merging the tracks and distorting the riff and mixing the drums up a little more, all while Patrick sat and plucked at the strings, with something clearly on his mind. When there were only a few minutes left of the lesson, Pete saved the files and closed everything, before turning to his partner.

“Alright, cut the crap, what’s wrong?”

“Hmm?” Patrick looked up, pulling off the i-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about face very well indeed.

“You’re being weird. I mean, you’re still being you, but you’re like, less bright than normal, and it’s weird.” Pete tried to explain. “So what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged, playing a g-chord.

Pete was about to push further when Brendon came over, wearing a stupid goofy grin. “Hey Sunshine, Pete, you down for traditional Friday night hangs at mine?”

Pete’s nickname for Patrick had spread around, and he was known as Sunshine to the entire music class now. Even Professor Hoppus regarded him by his nickname. Patrick didn’t mind, he just did his signature giggle every time he heard it.

“Sounds good, B. I’ll be there.” Pete forced a smile. “I’ll be late though, I just gotta go home and see Mom first.”

“Yeah, all good. Sunshine, Pattyboy, my bro, you up for crazy night of fun with Uncle B?” Brendon chuckled.

Patrick smiled at him. “Sounds fun. Are there gonna be a lot of people there?”

“Just us 8, it’s kinda our thing. We always hang at mine every Friday. It’s always a good time. You in?”

“Totally!” Patrick giggled, getting up to put the guitar away. “Where do you live?”

“Just down near the mall. Pete can give you a ride, right?” Brendon turned to Pete with an expectant smile.

“Well, yeah, I mean, yeah, of course.” Pete stammered, before turning to the younger. “Sunshine, um… there’s alcohol.”

“That’s okay.” Patrick chirped. “Nothing I can’t handle. I mean, I won’t drink it myself, but I’m not scared of alcohol.”

“Your parents are cool with it?”

“Yeah, they’ll be fine. I lived on campus with college kids who got drunk every night.” Patrick grabbed his bag off the floor. “Once you can survive that, you can survive _anything_.”

Brendon just laughed. “Awesome, I’ll see you there guys!”

When Brendon left, Pete grabbed his own bag. “Sunshine, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, it gets a bit wild sometimes.”

“No, I wanna come.” Patrick smiled, looking up at Pete. “Hey, what time should I meet you back at school?”

“What?”

“If you can give me a ride, that is. It’s easier to meet here. What time?”

“Um… probably 4?” Pete answered uncertainly.

“Awesome.” Patrick smiled.

“Hey, we’ve got to do a lot of work on the song over the weekend, um, what’s your phone number? You can text me the stuff you’ve done and I can do the same.” Pete asked.

“I don’t actually have a phone.”

“Seriously? Every brat your age has a phone, Sunshine.”

“Every brat except me.” He giggled. 

Pete sighed. “Alright, sunshine. I’ll see you this afternoon, yeah?”

“Yep!” Patrick enthused. “See you then!”

\---------

As promised, Patrick was waiting on the front steps of the school when Pete pulled into the school at 4pm that afternoon.

He’d certainly dressed for the occasion. He was wearing his favourite yellow boots, followed by yellow jeans and a grey-and-yellow checked shirt, topped with a yellow coat and a hat with yellow glitters on it. Pete took one look at him and shook his head playfully. “You do realise this is like, a casual thing, nobody really dresses up?”

“I don’t dress up for anyone else. I wear what I want because I want to.” Patrick responded with a cheeky smile as he climbed into the passenger seat. “Cool car.”

“It’s my Dad’s, but he’s deployed at the moment, so while he’s gone it’s mine.” Pete responded, putting it into gear and leaving the carpark. 

“Oh, cool.” Patrick looked out the window.

“Hey, I got you something.” Pete opened the glovebox and shoved a plastic baggie at the golden boy. “I found it in Mom’s drawer. I don’t know why she keeps these things, I think she thinks they’ll be worth a lot of money one day. They won’t, but anyway, you can use it for the time being. I put my number and all the other music guy’s numbers in it for you. It’s nothing flash, but hey, it’s better than nothing.”

“Thank you, Pete!” Patrick gasped, pulling the blackberry out of the plastic bag. “This is awesome!”

“It’s like 10 years old, but it still works.” Pete chuckled. “There’s newer models in the drawer if you wanna swap it, but that one’s yellow, so obviously it belongs with you.”

“I love it!” Patrick giggled, turning it on and playing with the buttons. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that!”

“Just make sure you update me on how the song’s going, alright?”

“I promise I will.”

“Good.”

\----------------

Brendon lived in his family’s garage. Quite literally. It was a four-bedroom house, and his parents had 5 children. They offered Brendon two options – he could share the upstairs bedroom with his brother, or he could turn the garage into his own room. He picked the latter.

He’d made it into a really nice place too, and had furnished it with bits and pieces he’d picked up from yardsales and whatnot. In total it made the room a great place to hangout, with mismatched lounge chairs, a dodgy old fridge, and a TV. The rest of the class was already there and had taken their spots, but cheered and waved when Pete led Patrick inside.

“Sunshine! You made it!” Brendon leapt up to greet them. “We saved you the yellow chair. Figured it was the one you’d want.”

Patrick just giggled. “Thanks!”

Pete chuckled from afar and headed over, greeting his friends and taking a seat in the green chair on the other side of the circle. Brendon came over with a beer from the cooler and offered it, and although Pete usually accepted one, he politely declined today. One wasn’t too bad, and he was okay driving himself home after only one, but he had to drive Sunshine home too, and that meant he wasn’t taking chances.

It seemed everyone else was tipsy already, with the exception of Patrick. It was all peaceful and relaxed for the first hour, everyone just making light conversation, until Brendon exclaimed loudly ‘watch this!’ and ran and fetched a rubik’s cube.

Patrick’s face fell.

“Now, Joshua,” Brendon threw the cube up in his hands, before catching it again. “How much money do you bet me that Sunshine here can solve this faster than the world record?”

“Pfffft.” Josh scoffed. “He can’t beat a record. They’re records for a reason.”

Brendon had the world record book, and slammed it open to the right page. “4.59 seconds. I bet you 20 bucks that he can beat that.”

“You’re on!” Josh raised an eyebrow, and Patrick seemed visibly nervous.

“Guys, don’t make him do this.” Pete stood up. “C’mon, he’s just a kid. And seriously Brendon? You’re gonna lose your 20 bucks.”

“It’s fine, Pete.” Patrick was the next to stand. “Mix it up, chuck it to me.”

“Sunshine, you don’t have to do this.” Pete told him. “If they’re gonna be drunk assholes, that’s fine, but they leave you out of it.”

“No, it’s fine, Pete.” Patrick responded firmly. “Mix it up. Everyone, what time do you reckon?”

Josh absolute destroyed the cube, and spent a good 2 minutes mixing it up before passing it over. Patrick took a few seconds to look at every side, and then smiled up at the other kids. “Alrighty, guess away.”

“2 minutes.” Josh told him.

“1 minute.” Dallon folded his arms.

“I’m gonna say 4 seconds.” Brendon chuckled, sitting back in his own chair.

“Pfft. 4 minutes.” Hayley leaned back, kicking her feet up on the coffee table.

“10 seconds.” Gerard made eye contact with Patrick, and smiled.

“3 minutes and 32 seconds.” Nicole guessed.

Patrick looked up at Pete and smiled. “Any guesses?”

“The fact that you’re confident…” Pete considered for a moment. “But I think it’s a rouse. I don’t think you’re gonna be able to solve it at all.”

That was meant by an “ohhhh” in unison from the group, and Patrick just giggled. “Who’s gonna time?”

“I will!” Gerard pulled his phone out and stood beside Patrick, keeping an eye on his hands. 

Patrick pulled his sleeves up and flexed his fingers, before getting into position. “Tell me when to go.”

“Alright… 3, 2, 1, go!”

It was like nothing Pete had ever seen. Sure, there’s all those viral videos of people solving rubik’s cubes at world championships, but for that to happen in Brendon’s basement in a little kid in a yellow suit, it was something else.

“3.48 SECONDS!” Gerard yelled as Patrick finished. “YOU’RE A GOD!”

Patrick just giggled and tossed the cube to Pete. “There you go.”

“T-That was faster the goddamn world record.” Hayley stammered.

“Yeah.” Patrick giggled. “It’s just a matter of practice, really. Good party trick.”

Brendon held his hand out to Josh. “That’s 20 bucks, please and thank you.”

Josh grumbled something, and reluctantly handed the cash over. Patrick giggled and ran over to him, giving the drummer a tight hug and apologizing. Josh didn’t mind, and just picked Patrick up onto his shoulders and paraded him around the garage, which just made him giggle again.

“How’d you know he could do that?” Pete asked Brendon, approaching him nervously.

“Have you googled the kid?” Brendon laughed. “Is there anything he can’t do?”

“No, I haven’t…”

Brendon grabbed a piece of paper, and scrawled some words on it. “Look this up tonight.”

“Alright…” Pete shoved it in his pocket. “It’s getting late. Look, we should go. Thanks for tonight, B.”

“Awww!” Brendon hugged him. “I’ll see you on Monday!”

“See you then buddy.” Pete thanked him again, before grabbing his stuff. 

Josh had put Patrick down by now, and Pete went to find him over by the TV. “Hey, sunshine, it’s getting late. We should get going.”

“It’s only 10, Pete…”

“Yeah, it’s _late_. C’mon, I’ll drop you home. Your parents are probably freaking out. My curfew at 14 was 5pm.”

“Fine.” Patrick mumbled, grabbing his bag. “See you guys!”

“Bye Sunshine!”

Pete had to essentially drag him out. “God, you’re a Mr Social, aren’t you?”

“Uh huh.” Patrick giggled. “That’s why I’m in high school.”

“Right.” Pete muttered, remembering that. “No other reason?”

“No?”

“Okay, good.” Pete could at least say he did ask on behalf of Hillary. He officially could wear the ‘good big brother’ badge now. “What you did with the Rubik’s cube was pretty cool.”

“Yeah, it’s fun.” Patrick laughed about it. “I probably hit my peak with Rubik’s cubes when I was 8… I think my best was 2.4 seconds? I don’t know, it’s been a while. But it’s a good party trick to pull out every now and then.”

“You ever considered calling the record guys for it?” Pete asked, half-joking, half-serious.

“Nah. I’ve already got my fair share of records. Sometimes you just gotta not break them so that other people can have them. I’m not greedy.”

“You know you’re a weirdo, right?”

“Uh huh.” Patrick giggled. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Right.” Pete muttered. “So, you want me to drop you at the school?”

“Yep, that’s perfect.”

“Awesome.”

\------------

“He’s not interested in getting a girlfriend, Hill. I asked him.”

“Pffft. Yeah, right.” Hillary scoffed. “Y’know we’re biology partners now? We’re doing the cow’s eye dissection together!”

“How romantic!” Pete mocked.

Hillary slapped him playfully. “He’s super sweet, Pete.”

“Yeah, I know. He’s sweet to everyone, Hillary. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Whatever, Pete.”


	5. Pete discovers the internet is a great place to do research and Patrick discovers the joys that buses can bring.

It was late when Pete got home from Brendon’s place, but the piece of paper burned in his pocket. He threw his bag on his bed and sat down at his desk, flicking the computer on and opening google chrome, before pulling it out of his pocket. Brendon’s piece of paper only said 4 words; Patrick Stump, child prodigy.

It was an interesting set of words; he didn’t know exactly what to make of them. Sure, Patrick _could_ be considered a prodigy. He was intelligent, there was no doubt about that, and the fact that he’d been to college already spoke for itself, but it was weird to think about it like that. All the child prodigy’s that Pete had heard of were untouchable, stories heard about only on the news on read about online, and they were always kids who were holding trophies or had medals around their necks for their achievements.

Needless to say, he typed the four words into google and pressed enter.

_18,071 results._

Pete was expecting a couple of things to come up, but this was beyond anything he expected. He blinked and had to look at the number again – that was a lot of webpages. But it was correct, and his eyes flicked to the first one to come up.

_The 10 smartest children in the world (and the crazy math they can do) – Business Insider._

“Seriously?” Pete murmured, clicking the link and scrolling down. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to find, but second from the bottom (the list was in alphabetical order), was a picture of the sunshine boy. He was much younger in the photo, but he was wearing the same yellow hat and the same glasses. They were just a lot bigger on him, and he had these rosy cheeks that made him look, well, adorable.

_10-year-old Patrick Stump of Chicago, Illinois. Patrick graduated high school with honours at the age of 8, and is currently studying his second degree at Yale University, a bachelor of advanced finance and economics. This comes after he finished an industrial engineering degree in it’s entirety within 10 months last year. Patrick also shows promise in areas other than academic, having led the United States junior basketball, soccer, baseball and lacrosse teams to victory in world tournaments last year. Being one of the youngest, yet also one of the highest achieving on this list, it will certainly be interesting to see how he progresses through to his teenage years._

“Far out.” Pete murmured under his breath, fumbling for a piece of paper to write this stuff down. He knew about the finance and economics degree, but an engineering one as well? That was something. He scrawled the important facts down, saved the photo, and went back to the results page.

There were about 8 more lists like that one on the first page, but what interested Pete was the pictures. He went to the google images search, and clicked on the first one, which was the same one put on the other website. In the next one he looked about the same age, but he was wearing a yellow yale sweater and had a pile of textbooks on the desk in front of him. The picture was linked to a news article about him being the youngest student to ever complete an engineering degree. That must’ve been the records he was talking about.

The next photo after that was a getty images one, and he was much, much younger. Still wearing a yellow shirt, he was standing up on stage at some fancy awards ceremony, receiving a trophy that was pretty much bigger than he was at this point in time. In fact, it would probably still be bigger than him today. The next few were similar pictures, him receiving all sorts of awards at varying degrees of tinyness. At his youngest, he was about 3 years old and being handed some trophy at a spelling bee.

Damn, Patrick.

There were more photos. Patrick wearing an official USA team jacket (over a yellow shirt, of course) at world championships for various sports, holding a trophy up with other talented children. Patrick pictured in a yellow suit with the president of the United States. There was even a picture of little Patrick with Ellen DeGeneres, where he’d obviously appeared on daytime TV at some point.

The further he dug, the deeper the rabbit hole grew. Every webpage revealed something new; Patrick winning a ballroom dancing competition, Patrick being personally invited to have tea with the Queen of England, and he found a video of Patrick solving a rubik’s cube in 4 seconds at about age 5. That must’ve been what Brendon found. 

But of every photo, every news story, every achievement he found, the most astounding thing he uncovered was the one photo where Patrick wasn’t winning anything at all, or doing anything incredible. He was just sitting on the couch, and there was a woman sitting beside him with her arm around him. He was probably about 4 years old in the photo, still absolutely tiny and dressed in yellow, but she was wearing a yellow shirt too and had her arm around him lovingly. _Patrick Stump pictured with his mother, Patricia Stump._

Pete stayed up until the early hours of the morning. He thought he’d underestimated Patrick a little bit; but this demonstrated that he truly had no idea who he was dealing with here.

\--------

Pete liked Saturday mornings, but that was because he had the house to himself. His Mom always took his sister out in the morning for breakfast and then to get groceries because his brother would come home from college for Saturday night dinner. It just meant he had a little bit of time to himself, which was a great feeling.

He had planned to do a little bit more work on the song and a little more research on Patrick, but first he was going to make himself pancakes because there was nobody here to tell him not to. He was just about finished making his batter when the doorbell rang, and Pete sighed and went to answer it. He expected it to be his sister, forgetting her house keys again, but when he looked through the peephole; all he could see was the top of a yellow hat.

Pete tore the door open. “What the fuck are you doing here, sunshine?!”

Patrick frowned. “Hello to you, too.”

“How’d you get my address?!”

“Brendon texted me this morning and told me to come. He said we should be working on our song, because him and Dallon were working on theirs all weekend together.” Patrick adjusted his weight to support his guitar case, which dwarfed him even more. Pete snatched it off him, partly because it looked like it was about to pull him over, before grabbing his shoulder and pulling him inside.

“Thanks, I guess.” Patrick mumbled, rubbing his shoulder as he followed Pete to the kitchen.

“How’d you even get here?” Pete demanded, going back to his pancakes. “This is a long way from the school, sunshine.”

“I know, I took the bus.” Patrick giggled, holding up a bus ticket.

“You lugged this thing all the way here on the bus?” Pete gestured to the guitar case.

“Yeah. It was funny.” Patrick just laughed about it and took a seat on one of the kitchen stools. “Sorry for showing up unannounced. The way that Brendon said it made it seem like you wanted me here. I can go if you want.”

“No, don’t bother.” Pete muttered, angrily pouring some batter onto the pan. “Now you’re here, we should do some work.”

“Awesome.” Patrick giggled.

Pete scowled in reply. He wasn’t about to kick Patrick out to the curb, but this wasn’t his ideal situation. None of Pete’s other friends had been here, with the exception of Brendon dropping him home a couple of times while he was drunk. The whole idea of having his friends in his family home just made his stomach churn. This was where he grew up, this was the space he shared with his mother and father and sister and brother. And now Patrick was in that space.

“D-Do you want any pancakes?” Pete asked after a few minutes of painful silence.

“If there’s enough, that’d be amazing, thank you.” Patrick responded quietly, sensing that something was wrong.

Pete made his pancakes in silence, and shoved a plate at the younger boy before sitting down beside him to eat his own. He was just sitting in silence, trying to convince himself that this was fine, Patrick was in his house but this was _fine_. Hillary had friends over all the time, right? This was _fine_.

“Y-You’re gonna have to leave before Mom gets home, okay?” Pete mumbled.

“What time will your Mom be home?”

“12.”

“So in 40 minutes?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, that’s fine.” Patrick nodded. “The pancakes are really good, thank you.”

“It’s fine.” Pete grunted in response.

They finished the meal in silence, and Pete took the plates to wash up. Patrick hesitantly pushed his glasses up. “Pete, if this makes you uncomfortable, I can go. I’m the same, I just, this was a better solution than you coming to mine, and I just- I can go. I’m not insulted or anything, and I don’t mind at all. I’m happy to go if you need me to go.”

It was a tempting offer, and Pete had to consider it as he scrubbed the plates. He did want Patrick to go, and he wanted to pretend this entire experience had never occurred, but he knew that bringing a friend over was one of the top things on the list of things he needed to do to get better. It was a list he’d made on his last day of inpatient, where they’d come up with reasonable goals that he could achieve in the near future. He was so, so, close now, and as hard as it was, hit bit his tongue and shook his head. “Don’t leave, w-we’ll, we’ll just get some work done.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, cool.” Patrick smiled. “If you don’t mind, um, which was is your bathroom?”

“Second door on the left down the corridor.” Pete murmured. “The lock’s broken, Mom did that a while back, um, accidently.”

“That’s okay. I’ll be right back.”

As soon as Patrick was gone, Pete scrambled through the medicine drawer for his bottle of emergency anxiety meds, his hands shaking. He popped two as fast as he could and shoved them away as fast as he got them out. Hopefully that would make everything just a little easier for the next 40 minutes.

Pete was starting to come to realization that he’d have to show Patrick his bedroom – the room where he slept, where he lived, because that’s where all his music stuff was. That was fine, that was completely and utterly _fine_. He could show Patrick his bedroom. That was totally, 100%, completely _fine_.

Except it really wasn’t fine. He buried his hands in his hoodie pockets when Patrick came out, mostly to hide the fact that they were shaking. He could do this. He could totally show Patrick his bedroom. That was fine. That was totally fine.

“So, I haven’t done a whole lot on the song since yesterday.” Patrick explained awkwardly when he came back. “But I did think that we need to re-think the guitar solo after verse 3. I don’t think it fits as well as it could.”

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.” Pete agreed, trying to focus on anything other than the storm inside his head. “Um… come this way.”

Patrick grabbed his monstrous guitar case and followed Pete down the hall. Pete didn’t say anything, but eventually he just managed to push the door open and gesture for Patrick to go inside. Then he turned around and sprinted out to their small yard space and punched the boxing bag that his father had out there. He punched it once, and then again and again and again and again until all his nervous energy was gone and he was exhausted. Then he dragged himself back inside to face the fact that there was someone from school _in his fucking bedroom. ___

__Patrick hadn’t actually done anything yet, and had just sat himself down on Pete’s desk chair and pulled his guitar out of his guitar case, and was running his fingers over the strings. Pete had to stop himself from snorting. “is there anything you own that isn’t yellow?”_ _

__“Plenty of things.” Patrick chuckled with a toothy grin. “But this isn’t one of them.”_ _

__“Right.” Pete sat down on his bed and grabbed his computer. “So… what was it you wanted to change about the guitar riff?”_ _

__There was always something distracting about music that brought Pete ease, and after only a few minutes of discussing how they could adjust their guitar solo, everything was okay again. Patrick was surprisingly easy to work with about this stuff, and Pete was grateful that he was showing his more adult side today. He loved kid Patrick too, but kid Patrick would’ve been a lot harder to deal with when he was already struggling._ _

__After they finally had the guitar riff in a spot where they liked it, Pete took a deep breath and decided to start a conversation. Patrick was looking out the window, quietly strumming some chords to himself to occupy his hands. “So… I googled you last night…”_ _

__“Oh, you did, did you?” Pete could have sworn he saw Patrick tense up, but it was probably just his imagination._ _

__“Yeah.” Pete responded awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck._ _

__Patrick sighed. “Alright, go on then.”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__“Go on then,” Patrick told him. “Tell me what you found, ask all those burning questions.”_ _

__Pete wasn’t exactly prepared for Patrick to be this prepared for this, and it took a moment. Patrick chuckled. “Did you think this seriously was the first time that somebody googled me, Pete?”_ _

__“Um… maybe…”_ _

__Patrick just kept strumming. “C’mon, tell me what you got.”_ _

__Pete fumbled for his pages of notes. “Okay… um… you don’t have just one degree like you told me.”_ _

__“Correct.”_ _

__“You have 4.”_ _

__Patrick snorted at that. “Outdated article.”_ _

__“Seriously? How many degrees do you have?”_ _

__“Seven.” Patrick responded. “Advanced finance and economics, journalism, civil engineering, forensic science, mathematics, classic literature and justice.”_ _

__“Fucking hell.” Pete muttered, scrawling that down on his piece of paper. “You’ve been to three presidential balls.”_ _

__“Uh huh. Not as fun as they look, though. And the catering is terrible.”_ _

__“You’ve had lunch with the Queen of England.”_ _

__“Lovely lady, but I think I liked her dogs more than her.” Patrick chuckled. “Corgi’s are my favourite. They’re short and yellow!”_ _

__Pete shook his head in disbelief and kept working down his list. “You’ve won 4 international mathematics Olympiads.”_ _

__“Technically team USA won them.”_ _

__“You speak 6 languages.”_ _

__“Eight now.” Patrick responded. “English, Japanese, French, German, Dutch, Zulu, Arabic and Cantonese.”_ _

__“Fluently?”_ _

__“Fluently.”_ _

__“Right.” Pete muttered, writing that down. “You’ve been a part of nine international sports championship winning teams.”_ _

__“Yeah, that’s right.”_ _

__“And yet you won’t join the school basketball team?”_ _

__“Nope.” He responded, popping the ‘p’._ _

__“Right, um… you’re currently the second best spelling bee champion in America.”_ _

__“Still second? I thought I would’ve been pushed further down the list by now. I haven’t done a spelling bee in years.”_ _

__“You’re a member of MENSA.”_ _

__“Yeah. They kinda begged me to join. It was kinda annoying really, I don’t have a whole lot to do with them.”_ _

__“You’re listed as the one of the smartest children in the world currently.”_ _

__“I’m sure there’s plenty of other’s who haven’t gone through proper IQ testing.”_ _

__Pete just shook his head in disbelief. “You went on Ellen DeGeneres.”_ _

__“That was a fun trip.” Patrick chuckled._ _

__Pete looked down at his piece of paper, and the last thing on it. He took a deep breath before presenting it. “Your Mom passed away in a car accident last year.”_ _

__The strumming abruptly stopped, and so did Pete’s heart for a split second. Patrick was silent for a moment. “I don’t talk about that.”_ _

__“You don’t, or you won’t?”_ _

__“I _don’t_ talk about that, Pete.” Patrick snapped._ _

__“Right, sorry.” Pete quickly apologised._ _

__Patrick just went back to his strumming in the silence that followed. Pete felt bad, maybe he had pushed a little too far, but he didn’t know what else to say to make it better. He just put his papers down and picked his computer back up, and tried to change the subject. “I, um, I wrote some lyrics for our song.”_ _

__“Lyrics?” Patrick spun around on the chair to face Pete. “Really? That’s pretty cool.”_ _

__“Well, I mean, it’s not a punk song without lyrics, right?” He tried to smile. “I, I don’t know, here, you can read through my drafts.”_ _

__Patrick smiled at him, and picked it up. He was only the partway through the first one when Pete’s bedroom door opened, and Pete’s Mom smiled in. “Hi Pete! Who’s this?”_ _

__Oh fuck._ _

__“Hi Mom…” Pete gave her a look that she hoped she’d interpret as a please-leave-now look, but unfortunately it didn’t seem to work. “This is Patrick.”_ _

__Patrick got up and walked over, before shaking her hand. “It’s an honour to meet you, miss.”_ _

__Obviously this was quite formal, and Dale giggled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you two, sweetheart. I’ve heard a lot about you.”_ _

__“All good things?” Patrick asked hopefully._ _

__“All good things.” She responded with a kind smile. “Would you boys like any drinks?”_ _

__“No thanks Mom, we’re right.” Pete responded quickly, eager to get her out of here. “Patrick was just getting ready to go.”_ _

__“Oh, okay. Well, I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” Dale smiled, closing the door behind her._ _

__“She seems nice.” Patrick remarked, going to pack his guitar up._ _

__“Uh huh.” Pete nodded. “Leave your guitar case here, you’re tiny and it’s practically the size of you.”_ _

__“I need to take it home, though.”_ _

__“Do you wanna come back tomorrow to keep working?” Pete offered. “it can say here one night, right?”_ _

__Patrick just giggled. “I can come back?”_ _

__“Yeah, tomorrow.” He responded. “See you later.”_ _

__Patrick just smiled and nodded, grabbing his backpack. Pete walked him to the front door, and sent him on his way to the bus stop._ _

__\------------------_ _

__“Pete, honey, you can’t expect me to not be excited for you. You haven’t had a friend over since you were 8 years old!” Dale bubbled at dinner that night._ _

__“Pete had a friend over?” Andrew, the eldest Wentz child, looked at his brother. “Really?”_ _

__“This morning. A new kid from his music class.” Dale smiled proudly, squeezing his hand under the table. “His name’s Patrick.”_ _

__Hillary choked on the bite she was currently chewing. “Patrick Stump was _in our house_?!”_ _

__“Yeah, while you were out.” Pete mumbled, trying to avoid the attention._ _

__“You could have told me!” She shrieked._ _

__“Hillary, please.” Dale told her firmly. “I met him, he seems like a lovely boy. Small though.”_ _

__“The kid has seven degrees, Mom.” Pete responded._ _

__“Sorry?”_ _

__“You know how Hillary told you that he’d been to college already? Yeah, he’s got seven degrees.” Pete stabbed his roast dinner with his fork aggressively. “He might be small, but his brain isn’t.”_ _

__“Seven? I thought he had two!” Hillary exclaimed._ _

__“Mmmm.” Pete murmured. “Look, can this just not be a big thing? We literally just worked on the assignment for an hour.”_ _

__“Course honey, just know I’m proud of you.” Dale squeezed his hand under the table again._ _


	6. Patrick has no sense of acceptable times to show up at people’s houses and Pete is beginning to wish that he didn’t drop out of the soccer team.

It was 6:13 in the morning when the door knocking echoed through the Wentz household. Pete, with his room being closest to the front door, was the first to wake. He dragged himself out of bed, assuming it must be the mailman with a package or something (they seemed to be delivering earlier and earlier these days) that needed to be signed for. He just pulled on the first t-shirt he found on the floor, and dragged himself to the front door in his pyjama pants.

There was no mailman when he opened the door. Just a little boy dressed in yellow, who giggled and waved. “Hi!”

“What the _fuck_?” Pete rubbed his eyes sleepily, before realising he wasn’t dreaming and Patrick was seriously at his house at 6:13am. “What the _fuck_ are you doing here, sunshine?”

“You told me to come back today?” Patrick seemed confused.

“Not at 6 in the fucking morning!”

Patrick then noticed the pyjama pants and the bags under Pete’s eyes. “Oh… is this too early? Did I wake you up? Oh, no… I’ll come back later.”

He turned to leave, but Pete just grabbed his arm and yanked him inside, closing the door behind them. “You’re an actual nightmare to deal with, you realise?”

“You’re actually not the first person to tell me that.” Patrick chuckled quietly.

Pete just shook his head and dragged Patrick to his room. “I’m going to shower. Stay here, don’t leave the room, don’t make any noise and don’t touch anything. Got it?”

“Got it.” Patrick responded quietly, realising that he was in a little bit of trouble here.

“Good.” Pete muttered, grabbing some clothes and heading to the bathroom.

The hot water was a good wake up call, and Pete stayed in there a little longer than necessary as he tried to figure out why in the world Patrick had thought it a good idea to arrive at the crack of dawn. All he could draw was blanks, and eventually just sighed. He was here now, Pete just had to deal with it.

Patrick hadn’t moved a muscle in the 20 minutes that Pete took to shower, but was looking out the window with a very sad and guilty expression on his face. 

“Sorry for showing up early, I didn’t, I don’t really know anybody who sleeps in.”

“6am isn’t a sleep in, sunshine. But look, it’s fine, whatever. I didn’t specify yesterday.” Pete ran a hand through his hair. “C’mon, I’m gonna make a coffee. You want anything?”

“I’m not a huge fan of caffeinated beverages.” Patrick stood up. “Do you have any hot chocolate?”

“Yeah, come on.” Pete murmured. “Be quiet. I know that’s not your thing, but the rest of my family is sleeping right now and they’ll be annoyed if we wake them up.”

Patrick just nodded and took lighter steps than before as he followed Pete to the kitchen. 

Being the crack of dawn, the early morning sunlight streamed through the kitchen as Pete made warm beverages. It was silent between them, the only sound being Pete’s footsteps through the kitchen or the whistling of the kettle once it boiled. He’d only just finished making them and had sat down beside Patrick at the kitchen table to drink his coffee when he heard an ear-piercing scream from his sister as she entered the room.

“Morning, Hill.” Pete murmured, not surprised in the slightest.

Patrick just waved hesitantly, not sure what to make of his biology partner with bed hair and kitten pyjamas. “Good morning.”

“What are you doing in my house?” She squeaked, going red in embarrassment.

“Oh, um, Pete and I are working on our music project?” he responded, before giggling. “I like your pyjamas. Cats are great. I really want one, but I’m allergic, so that kinda sucks, but I do love them.”

“Hillary, go get changed.” Pete sighed. “Sunshine, you really don’t have any experience with girls, do you?”

“Like, romantically?” Patrick questioned, like it was the most absurd thing on the planet. “Nope.”

“Of course. Well, for starters, when a girl is going red like that, it means she’s embarrassed and you probably shouldn’t talk about her cat pyjamas.” Pete took a sip of his drink. “And if she’s going red like that, it means she likes you.”

“Really?” Patrick pondered the thought for a minute. “Weird.”

“God, you’re a weirdo, you know that?” Pete asked, getting up to make himself a bowl of cereal. “Have you had breakfast?”

“Yeah, I had some eggs at home.”

“Awesome.” Pete responded.

Hillary’s scream was loud enough to wake up the other two sleeping members of the house, and it wasn’t long before Dale and Andrew entered the room, in their pyjamas as well.

“Mom, you’ve met Patrick already.” Pete introduced with a sigh. “Andrew, this is Patrick. Sunshine, this is my brother, Andrew.”

Patrick hesitantly waved. Dale smiled warmly at him in that motherly way, and Andrew just gave the boy dressed head to toe in yellow a strange look before heading to the kitchen to have a conversation with his brother.

“Pete, you can’t be inviting people over at six in the morning.” Andrew pushed past him into the kitchen to make his own cup of coffee. “Like, it’s good you have friends and stuff now, and you’re not being a loner, but like, not at this ungodly hour.”

“Yeah, yeah, bad idea, I know.” Pete mumbled, not willing to throw Patrick under the bus here. He hadn’t specified what time he wanted him over, and Patrick probably didn’t know any better.

“Yeah.” Andrew responded flatly.

“Sorry.” Pete mumbled. “Look, it’s not his fault, you gotta leave the kid alone about it, okay? It’s my fault, not his.”

“Also, speaking of which, who the hell is he?” Andrew made eye contact with Pete. “Mom told you to make friends, not kidnap some innocent from the elementary school.”

“He’s 14.” Pete defended, before releasing he sounded exactly like Patrick did when Patrick first approached him and Pete brushed him aside. “Look, remember last night, I was telling you about the prodigy guy? Yeah. That’s Patrick.”

“What’s with the yellow?”

“I don’t know.” Pete answered honestly. “That’s all I’ve ever seen him wear.”

Andrew made a face, but didn’t say anything. He just finished making his drink and headed to the table, where Dale had already struck up a conversation. Pete took the moment of distraction to take his meds for the day, before sitting down and joining in.

“High school is definitely a lot more fun the second time around.” Patrick giggled childishly. “All the teachers are so much better at this school though, and I really like the subjects and stuff on offer. The first high school I went to was a lot stricter and there wasn’t a whole lot of choice.”

“I can imagine.” Dale smiled warmly, resting her head on her hand, clearly enjoying the golden boy’s tales. “What would you say your favourite subject is?”

Patrick made eye contact with Pete and smiled. “Music, definitely.”

“Not biology?” Hillary added with a slint hint of desperation in her voice.

“Biology is fun, but it’s not really anything special or new.” Patrick explained, thinking about what he was going to say. “There’s only so many times you can do a dissection before it gets old. Music is, it’s different. It’s always new, because you’re always creating new stuff, and there’s all new technology and stuff and it’s just, it’s really great.”

“Do you play any instruments?” Andrew asked.

“I play drums, guitar, trumpet, piano, bass, trombone and saxophone, but guitar is definitely my favourite.” Patrick smiled. “It’s yellow.”

“It is. It’s currently in my bedroom.” Pete confirmed.

Dale laughed. “You’re really into your yellow, aren’t you?”

Patrick just giggled. “Yep.”

Pete could see his brother about to push much further into that topic, and for some reason he started getting a little protective of his little buddy. “Hey, sunshine, we should probably get started on our work now that everyone’s up, hey?”

“Oh, yeah!” Patrick grinned and stood up. “Thank you for the lovely chat Mrs Wentz, and um… Mister Pete’s Brother Andrew.”

“Call me Dale.” Dale got up too and took the cups to wash them up. “I’ll be out here if you boys want any snacks or anything, okay?”

“Okay Mom.” Pete sighed. “C’mon sunshine, we got work to do.”

“At…. 6:49 in the morning?” Andrew asked. “Seriously? C’mon, we haven’t been up early enough to go play soccer in the park in years. You wanna come?”

Pete looked to his mother, then back to his older brother, who was smiling with a slight mischievous grin. “Um…”

“C’mon, you don’t want to miss an opportunity to kick my butt, right?” Andrew smiled, before turning to Patrick. “Did you know that Petey here is a _fantastic_ soccer player?”

“I do now.” Patrick giggled. “It sounds fun Pete, can we go?”

“Sunshine, you’re wearing bright yellow jeans and boots.” Pete reminded him. “Not exactly soccer stuff.”

“I might have something you can wear, sweetheart.” Dale piped up from the kitchen. “I have boxes of old clothes belonging to Pete in the garage.”

“Seriously?” Pete asked, glaring at his mother.

She just shrugged. “Wanna come and have a look with me?”

Patrick just nodded and giggled, before following her out of the room. That left Pete, Andrew and Hillary standing around their dining room table.

“Andrew, he’s gonna destroy both of us.” Pete sighed.

“What? Pipsqueak? No way.” Andrew stretched his arms out. “Let’s settle it once and for all, with an audience. Who’s the better Wentz soccer player?”

The rivalry of who was the better soccer player had carried throughout their childhoods. Generally Andrew won all the time when they were very young, and then Pete got better with training and won most games. But then Pete got sick and dropped out of the soccer team, and Andrew hadn’t played since he’d gone off to college. Hillary looked at her two brothers and rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous. Patrick’s gonna be on my team, and we’re gonna verse both of you. We’ll see who wins the title of best Wentz soccer player.”

“Not fair.” Pete stood his ground. “Patrick’s on my team.”

“Seriously?” Andrew looked between his two siblings. “How about this, all for one and one for all.”

“Fine.” Pete frowned, knowing exactly who was going to win this game.

Patrick returned a few miuntes later with a bundle of yellow clothes in his hands and a big smile on his face. “Your Mom said I could have some of your old stuff because it doesn’t fit you anymore. For the record, your taste in fashion used to be a _lot_ better, Pete.”

“You tell him, honey!” Dale laughed from the door.

“I’ll have you know that metallica t-shirts are a perfect fashion choice.” Pete frowned, folding his arms.

“I haven’t seen this stuff in years.” Hillary giggled, pulling a shirt out of the pile. “Didn’t you wear this in your 4th grade school photo, Pete?”

“Lemme see.” He snatched it off her and looked at it, then at Patrick. “Uh… yeah….”

“Benefits of being small.” Patrick giggled, bundling them back up. “I’m gonna get changed, I’ll be back!”

When he was gone again, Andrew raised one eyebrow. “So, let me get this straight. This little dork is Pete’s new best friend because he’s desperate and needs elementary schoolers as friends, and Hillary’s crush because she dreams of dating a little yellow elementary schooler?”

“He’s 14!” They both defended at once, before looking at each other. 

“Andrew, sweetheart, he’s a lovely boy, don’t pre-judge him.” Dale told her eldest firmly. “And besides, I think he’s about to absolutely smash you at soccer.”

Andrew scoffed. “We’ll see about that.”

Patrick returned dressed for the occasion. The old sports shoes weren’t yellow, sadly, but he was wearing yellow socks underneath them. He had taken Pete’s 4th grade t-shirt, and a pair of _very_ short yellow shorts, which Pete swore belonged to his sister a couple of years ago. But the finishing touch was the yellow bandana tired around his head, which made him look both super serious and super not-serious at the same time.

“Well, that’s an outfit and a half.” Pete chuckled.

“Are they my shorts?” Hillary asked.

Patrick just giggled. “Game on.”

\--------------------

The three Wentz children and Patrick had found themselves a nice empty part of the park to battle it out, and had outlined some goals with sticks they’d found near some trees. Four corners, four goals, four players, and one pair of _very_ short yellow shorts. And one mother, who was cheering over in the far corner, mostly enjoying the hilarity of watching her almost adult children verse each other in soccer.

Hillary had no chance, and knew she had no chance, but Patrick did somehow pull off those booty shorts so she was on the field. Pete knew his only hope laid in Patrick letting him win, but he was determined to kick his brother’s butt. Andrew had no clue to any of this, and wanted to beat all three of these children fair and square. Patrick just giggled.

“First to 5?” Pete suggested.

“Sounds good.” Andrew nodded. “Hill, you wanna throw the ball up to start the game?”

Hillary nodded, and started with a big toss into the air, traditional Wentz style. Pete and Andrew both dove for it, with Pete getting it first and taking it down the field. Patrick was hot on his heels on the left, but Andrew was closer on the right. So he got in front of the ball and quickly turned around, kicking it to his sister in the hopes that maybe she’d help him out.

That turned out to be a terrible idea, because she sent it straight to Patrick. Part of Patrick wanted to go nuts right now, and show Andrew who was boss, but he kept the conversation with Dale in the forefront of his mind as he purposely missed the ball as he went to kick it. Andrew was the next to get it, and quickly guided it to his own goal.

Pete was the next to score, then Andrew again, and then Pete twice. Eventually it got to four-four, and grabbed the ball. “Alrighty. 3 verse 1. Wentz family versus me. You guys win, you have a final battle for number one spot. I win, um… I don’t know yet. Then I win. Sound good?”

Andrew started laughing. “Seriously, kid? You haven’t scored one goal against us all game.”

“Then let’s see how we go.” Patrick raised an eyebrow, and flexed his fingers.

“Fine, whatever. Let’s do this guys.”

Patrick giggled and threw him the ball. “You start.”

“This is suicide, kid.”

“We’ll see about that.” Patrick giggled.

It came as no surprise to Pete that Patrick was really, really, really brilliant at soccer when he stopped holding back. He intercepted the ball without any trouble, and scored the first goal, much to the shock of Andrew.

“Suicide, huh?”

“Uh huh, you got lucky, pipsqueak.”

10 minutes and 56 goals to zero later, it was clear that Patrick did not ‘get lucky’. Patrick was just a fucking amazing soccer player, and it was only made better to watch Andrew’s face as Dale cheered for the boy in yellow from the sideline. Every goal was a different trick shot, and despite Pete and Andrew’s best attempts to get it back, they had no chance. 

Not only was Patrick absolutely destroying both of them, he was doing it without even breaking a sweat.

When they finally came off, Dale laughed at the sight of her two teenage sons, absolutely drenched and in need of a shower. She just put her arm around Patrick and handed him a bottle of water. “ _You_ child, are amazing, and I love you already.”

Patrick just giggled. “Thanks Dale.”

“Where the fuck did you learn to play like that?” Andrew puffed, sitting down on the ground as he grabbed his own bottle of water.

“Language!” Dale corrected.

“Self-taught.” Patrick responded with a smile.

“Damn.”

“To be fair, everyone did tell you not to underestimate him.” Hillary informed her brother.

“Looks are deceiving.” He responded. “I mean, look at him. Does he seriously look like a world-class soccer player?”

Patrick giggled again, and stretched. “I like being deceiving. Y’know, it’s always better to be underestimated than overestimated.” He walked over to Andrew, and offered a hand to help him up. “But both of you are really good, much better than a lot of the kids I’ve played over the years.”

“Dude, we’re both older than you.”

The boy in yellow just smiled and held his hands together. “I know.”


	7. Even though the assignment is done and handed in now, Pete still wants to meet with Patrick after school for milkshakes and conversation but is a little shy and doesn’t know how to start a discussion.

When it came time to hand in the assignment on Wednesday, Pete was feeling a little bittersweet about it. On one hand, they’d done it. They’d made a pretty amazing song together in under a week in response to the speech, and it was time to celebrate. On the other hand, this drew a close to a pretty amazing week in which not only had Pete talked to somebody knew, he’d invited him over, been out for milkshakes with him, and generally found him to be a pretty cool little dude.

Pete didn’t exactly want that to be over, he liked having that excuse there to hang out with Patrick. But that was gone now, and it was… it was okay. It wasn’t like he had a choice. He’d just fade back into the background of the social sphere, until another group project or something came along.

Most of the work they were doing in music now anyway wasn’t anything fun, just theory and essays and writing and stuff. Pete found himself staring at the back of the boy in yellow on more than one occasion, watching his as he scrawled his notes down or did just about anything. Everything he did, he just did so _well_ , and it was fascinating to watch.

And when they were handed their next assignment, an individual composition, all Pete wanted to do was listen to what the little sunshine boy had written. He seemed to have gotten the hang of the mixing software by now, and every lesson he was playing something to Professor Hoppus for feedback, and Professor Hoppus would just give him that stupid impressed smile and pat him on the shoulder.

It was Thursday afternoon when Pete slowly shuffled over to the practice room that Patrick was in, and knocked on the door before poking his head in. Patrick was sitting at the grand piano, playing another extraordinary song, but stopped when the door opened. “Hi Pete!”

“Hey sunshine.” Pete murmured, not exactly sure where he was going with this.   
“Um… hi…”

“Hi.” Patrick turned around on his stool. “What’s up?”

“Um… nothing, really. I just, came to say hi?” God, that sounded weird. Pete hadn’t been the one to initiate a social meeting since middle school, and his awkwardness was really showing through right now. “How’s the song going?”

“Pretty good.” Patrick just beamed. “I’m playing around with some piano, but I can’t get it just right and it’s annoying. Y’know that feeling where you’ve tried just about everything and it’s all wrong?”

Pete nodded, knowing the feeling all too well. “Sometimes you just gotta take a break when that happens. Hey, do you wanna um, go get a milkshake this afternoon? I was gonna go and work on my assignment at the café and you can work on yours, and it’ll be nice?” He winced as the sentence came out, realising exactly how awkward it sounded.

“That sounds great!” Patrick giggled. “Oh, wait, I don’t have any allowance…”

“I’ll get you a milkshake, sunshine.” Pete chuckled. “And how are you still reliant on allowance? I mean, surely through all your TV interviews and genius stuff, you’d be loaded, right?”

“Nope.” Patrick responded after a few seconds, going very, very quiet.

“Oh, that’s all good, don’t stress. I’ll get you a milkshake.” Pete tried to rescue the situation. “I’ll meet you at the café after school?”

“Yeah, sounds fun.” Patrick smiled again, but this time a little less brightly. He just turned around and went back to the piano, resuming his song.

“Hey, sunshine… is it alright if I just sit in here and listen until the bell goes?” Pete asked nervously.

Either Patrick didn’t respond because he didn’t hear Pete’s question, or he purposely chose not to respond. In the end, Pete just grabbed his stuff and left the room, leaving Patrick to sit and play by himself.

\-------------------

The café was relatively quiet for a Thursday afternoon, and Pete grabbed a booth up the back and ordered the milkshakes. He knew he had a little while until Patrick arrived, so he reluctantly pulled out his math homework.

It was no secret that Pete hated math with a passion, but he had to pass. He had to pass to graduate, and if he was failing then the school threatened to pull him out of the music program so he could focus on his other subjects. It was a terrifying thought, and as such, he sat and glared at the calculus paper in front of him. He had no idea about any of this stuff, but he _had_ to pass math.

He was still sitting and stewing over question 1 when Patrick arrived, and sat down at the table. “Ooo, calculus.”

Pete glanced up at him, then back down at his paper with a sigh. “Hi sunshine.”

“How’s the math homework coming?” Patrick asked, getting his own schoolbooks out.

“Awfully, thank you.” Pete chuckled sadly.

“Fair enough.” He laughed. “You know I hated maths the first time I did it?”

“Don’t you have a mathematics degree?”

“I said I didn’t like it.” Patrick responded. “Not that I wasn’t good at it.”

“Fair enough then.” Pete folded his book away and shoved it in his bag. “Numbers aren’t the greatest of things, they just, nothing makes sense to me. I’m failing, but at the same time, I can’t be failing because if I fail then I don’t graduate and that means no getting into music school next year.”

“You wanna go to music school?” Patrick questioned.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s my passion, and like, the only thing I’m good at.” Pete explained awkwardly. “Not everyone’s you, sunshine, and has a billion choices because they’re great at everything.”

“There’s a lot of things I’m _not_ good at.” Patrick giggled.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Height?”

Pete just laughed. “Yeah, actually, that’s true.”

“When the mathematic Olympiad team went to Disneyland they left me behind because I was too short to do any rides.” Patrick giggled, taking a sip of his milkshake.

“Seriously?” Pete asked. “Assholes.”

“No, it was all cool.” Patrick defended quickly. “I didn’t really want to go anyway.”

Pete changed the subject. “How are you going with the music task?”

“It’s coming along, slowly.” Patrick shrugged. “It’s a bit more alternative than punk, but I think it sounds half-decent so I’m okay with it.”

“From what I’ve seen, Professor Hoppus absolutely loves it.”

“Eh. I mean, it’s okay. He gives good feedback.”

“He’s a good teacher, I’ve been with him since I started high school.” Pete smiled fondly at the memory of himself in freshman music, and the way that professor Hoppus managed to encourage him to pursue music and get better. “I wouldn’t be where I am without him.”

Patrick giggled. “That’s cute.”

“Mmmm.”

“I liked seeing your family on Sunday. They’re really nice.” Patrick took a sip of his drink. “It probably would’ve been better if I didn’t come at sunrise and I didn’t destroy all of you in soccer, but they’re all really nice.”

Pete chuckled. “Mom’s already asking when you’re coming over next, and then my brother googled you and it’s just, yeah. You’re a celebrity in the Wentz house now.”

Patrick sighed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just, I, I don’t like the internet.” Patrick mumbled.

“Why not? It’s great!”

“It’s not when everything about you is plastered across the web for everyone to see.” Patrick muttered, clenching his fist. “I mean, it’s not completely bad, I’d prefer that you found out all that stuff about me by yourself so I didn’t have to explain it all, but, it’s just annoying when you’re trying to make friends and everyone knows everything about you.”

“Oh.” Was all Pete managed. He hadn’t exactly thought about it like that.

“Because then when people meet me they have a preconceived idea of who I am and how I act.” Patrick explained. “I have so many degrees so I must be super smart and use big words. I play so many sports so I must be a jock. I met the president a couple of times so I must be super snooty. I don’t want people to see me as who they think I am, I just want them to see me as, like, me.”

“That’s understandable.” Pete nodded. “I, um… I’m not particularly good at social stuff, but I was kinda a bit scared on the first day because, I, um…” he hadn’t really ever talked about this with anyone other than his mother before, and fumbled to find the right words. “I had a moment, at the end of last year? It wasn’t good, and um, I spent a bit of time in inpatient care over the summer and stuff, and I was kinda scared when I came back to school that I’d just be the guy who lost his mind and that’s all people would see me as. I was really grateful for you, you sucked up all the attention and it meant that I could just blend in.”

Patrick placed a hand on Pete’s, and Pete quickly looked up and made eye contact. The younger boy just gave him a sympathetic smile. “Coming back after that would’ve been hard, and hey, you’re doing a good job so far.”

“Thanks, sunshine.” Pete said quietly, looking at their hands.

“Screw everyone else.” Patrick giggled. “We can just be the snooty, stuck-up child genius and the guy who went nuts.”

“Sounds good.” Pete laughed. “Hey, do you wanna come over on Saturday? I don’t know, we can just like, work on our music and chat, and I don’t know what people do…”

“Hang out?” Patrick attempted with a smile.

“Yeah, that thing.” Pete smiled.

“I’ll be there. But, um… what time should I come?”

“Not before 10 in the morning.”

“10?!”

“10.”

Patrick pouted and jutted his bottom lip out.

“Nine. No earlier.” Pete folded his arms.

“Fine.” He giggled. “Nine. Okay. You guys sleep in lots, you realise?”

“No, we have a normal sleep schedule. Do you even sleep? You thought 10 wasn’t late and apparently 6 isn’t early.”

Patrick just giggled again. “Sometimes.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

“You just don’t get how incredible you truly are.”

\------------------

Friday night came around, and it was time for the weekly get-together in Brendon’s garage. There were no rubik’s cubes in sight tonight, which proved to be a relief for Patrick, who entertained himself by playing ping pong with the girls. Pete grabbed a can of soda, and crashed on the sofa next to Brendon and Dallon.

“Hey Petey boy.” Brendon smiled, resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “How’s it going?”

“Yeah, alright.” Pete smiled in reply. “So, are you two gonna explain, well, this?” He gestured to the two of them.

Dallon grabbed Brendon’s hand and smiled. “Well, Brendon and I were just out one night, and he got pretty drunk, and then he kissed me. I liked it. So here we are.”

“Beautiful. And fitting.” Pete applauded.

“Enough talk about us,” Brendon interrupted. “Tell us about you and Sunshine over there. Hillary was telling me he was at your place on the weekend.”

“Why were you texting my sister?”

“Who _doesn’t_ text your sister, Pete?” Dallon added. “She’s the one who knows everything about everyone.”

“Ah, yes, the popular kid.” Pete muttered. “Yeah, that’s right. It’s still weird though.”

“Hey, she texted me first, not the other way around.” Brendon held his hands up. “Also, apparently he can play soccer?”

“Yeah, that was funny.” Pete laughed, the three of them turning to watch Patrick winning at ping pong against both Nicole and Hayley. Pete could tell he wasn’t going full pelt, but he was giggling and having a good time, and that was all that mattered.

“Sounds like you two are getting pretty close.” Dallon winked.

“Seriously?” Pete shut that idea down quickly. “No, no, no. We’re not close, we’re just, just, just well, like, this. I don’t know a lot about him, he doesn’t know a lot about me, it’s the same as with everyone else.”

“It’s okay to have best friends, Pete.” Brendon smiled at him. “I know you’re really into your whole defensive thing, and I know you don’t like to admit when you actually find people interesting, but I’m glad you’ve found someone you can talk to. You know how fucking stressed we all were when you got taken away?”

“It wasn’t your fault, you guys know that.” Pete shifted around uncomfortably.

“Yeah, but still. You live in your head, Pete. Sometimes you gotta find someone who you trust enough to share that with, and I think you’ve found him.”

Pete opened his mouth to argue, before closing it again as Patrick wandered over and sat down on the couch beside him. “Hey guys!”

“Hey Sunshine!” Dallon smiled warmly. “You want a soda or a beer or something?”

“Seriously? No beer guys, c’mon.” Pete scolded. “He’s a kid.”

“I’m 14!”

“Exactly. No drinks for you. You can have a soda, and that’s it, hear me?”

“You’re such a Mom, Pete.” Brendon rolled his eyes. “Have whatever you want, sunshine. The fridge is yours.”

Patrick returned a few minutes later with a juice box and a proud smile, and Pete just rolled his eyes. Dallon laughed, and Brendon just gave him a weird look. He popped the straw in the top and took a sip before giggling and resting his head on Pete’s arm.

Interally, Pete screamed and wanted to push him off. Externally, Pete just tightened his fist and tried to control himself. Patrick was fine, he wasn’t hurting anyone there, he was just resting his head on Pete’s arm and everything was _fine_. Pete kept telling himself he just had to breathe – he just had to keep breathing and everything would be fine.

Patrick could feel the tension in Pete’s arm, and hesitantly lifted his head up. They made eye contact for a moment, and Pete had to look away. He was fine, this was fine, there was nothing wrong at all and this was _fine_. Patrick wasn’t touching him anymore, he was fine.

“So, sunshine, you got any other party tricks to impress us with tonight?” Dallon asked.

He considered for a minute. “What kinda party tricks do you wanna see?”

“Something only you can do.”

Patrick pushed his glasses up, before shrugging. “I can recite 200 digits of pi?”

“Anything else?” Pete asked, trying to avoid any talk of math during his downtime. He didn’t do math unless he absolutely had to.

“I can do a jigsaw puzzle pretty fast?” Patrick offered. “I don’t know, I don’t have a list of tricks or anything, I just do things as they come up. Brendon, you found me on the internet, what do you wanna see?”

“Can you do your tap dance routine?” Brendon asked, his eyes lighting up.

Patrick winced. “C’mon, I was like, 5 when I did that…”

“Is there a video of Sunshine tap-dancing on the internet?” Hayley pulled her phone out. “I am so finding that.”

“Guys…” Patrick murmured, adjusting his hat. “Please, c’mon, it’s not that interesting…”

Everyone except Pete and Patrick was now crowded around Hayley’s phone, watching the stupid video. Patrick sighed and rested his head in his hands, and Pete immediately got to his feet. “Guys, you’re making him uncomfortable, please don’t.”

“This is adorable though!”

Pete snatched the phone away. “Guys, not cool. Leave him alone, okay?! Just because it’s on the internet doesn’t mean that he wants it there.”

The group looked at each other, and Hayley nodded slowly. “Sorry, Sunshine. Wait, where’d he go?”

“Patrick?” Brendon called, looking around the garage for any hint of yellow.

“Where’d he go!?” Dallon asked.

The garage was turned upside down, and the girls went to look for him outside. It took about 20 minutes, until Pete finally found the boy in yellow sitting in the passenger seat of his car, which was parked down the street.

“Sunshine! There you are!” Pete ran over. “Everyone’s freaking out, how the hell did you get out of there so fast?!”

“My legs might not be very long but they’re very fast.” Patrick mumbled, not making eye contact. “Can we go home now?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine.” Pete said softly, hearing how upset he was. Patrick was never upset like this. He was the sunshine, the one who never burnt out, and who constantly radiated a positive view. “Just let me tell everyone we’re leaving and we’ll go.”

After running inside and calling off the search, Pete drove them home. It was silent between them, a stark difference to the usual bubbly conversation that Patrick initiated. Pete just dropped him off at the school with a ‘see you tomorrow’, and Patrick just nodded in agreement and climbed out.

Part of Pete was curious, and part of Pete wanted to follow him home and check that he was okay. But the other part of Pete told him it was none of his business, and that was the part he listened to on his drive home that Friday night.


	8. Patrick decides it’s a good idea to show up at Pete’s house at 3 in the morning and Pete gets the fright of his life when he does so.

It was another sleepless night for Pete – something he was too familiar with. He’d dropped Patrick off, then spent the next hour driving around the neighbourhood, trying to figure out whether he should go home or try and find him. Maybe he was already trying to find him, driving around and double checking his mirrors for any signs of yellow. But when it hit midnight, it was clear Patrick was probably already home for the night and Pete headed home as well.

He was worried, honestly, and that was all it came down to. He was worried about his new friend, and probably the only person other than his mother who he felt he could trust. The group had taken it too far at Brendon’s house, and he seemed really hurt. It was a weird thought – that he was hurt like that. His positivity was like armour, for the longest time it seemed he couldn’t even be hurt. It seemed to Pete that even the literal sun had a dark side.

He tried everything to try and get his mind off things – Patrick would be fine tomorrow. He was always fine. He’d be here at nine and he’d be all happy and yellow and sunny and everything would be grand. Right? Part of him wasn’t convinced, and it refused to let him sleep, so he got to doing other things. He did more work on his assignment, worked a little on one of his own songs, and even tried to do a little math homework when all else failed. In the end, he laid in bed and clenched his eyes closed, pleading that eventually his mind would ease up and he’d slip off.

He was nearly there when someone started pounding at the door. Pete at first thought he was imagining it, who on earth would be knocking at his door at 2:59am on a Saturday? Not even postman delivered this early. He rolled over and tried to drift back off, when the pounding reoccurred. Louder, and faster this time.

“What on earth?” Pete muttered to himself, pulling on a shirt and dragging himself to the door. There was a third round of knocking, even faster, but a tiny bit softer this time. Pete opened it to see his little friend, who he’d been so worried about, standing there with a large blood stain seeping into his shirt over the left shoulder. 

It was huge, covering almost half of the once-yellow shirt in crimson, and trickles of blood ran down his arm, dripping off the tips of his finger. His other hand was covered in blood, obviously from touching wherever he was wounded, and splatters of red covered the rest of his outfit, and was all through his cinnamon-blonde hair. He was pale, and his eyelids were drooping slightly as he held onto the doorframe for support.

“Pete,” he slurred slightly as he spoke, not opening his mouth fully. “Can I borrow yourrrrr first aid kit?”

“MOM!” Pete screamed, catching Patrick as he stumbled forward. “ANDREW! HILLARY! ANYBODY!”

He helped Patrick stumble through the house to a lounge chair, and tried not to focus on the trail of red footprints that he was leaving behind him. The younger child had no strength to stand, and collapsed onto the leather as soon as he had the chance.

“MOM!” Pete screamed again, before taking off and running to the bathroom. He went though all the cupboards and threw everything aside, before finally digging the first aid kit out and sprinting back to Patrick.

Patrick was conscious. Terrible woozy, and the room was spinning, but he was conscious and tried to remember what he’d learned at his first aid course. It’d been years, and his qualification was out of date, but they didn’t change first aid, right?

It probably would’ve been a lot easier if he had the strength to lift his arms up.

Dale was the first to come running, and went pale as soon as she saw the child bleeding out on her couch. But that didn’t stop her, she ran straight over and got to work. “What happened Pete?”

“H-He just showed up!” Pete stammered. “Knocking and t-then I opened it, a-and there he was and!”

“First aid kit.” Patrick mumbled, his mouth hardly opening. “I c-can do it…”

“Patrick, sweetheart, don’t you worry about doing it, okay?” Dale told him, digging through the first aid kit until she grabbed the scissors and pulled on a pair of gloves. “I’m a registered nurse, alright? That’s my job, and you’re gonna be just fine, I promise.”

Andrew was the next to come out, and wore the same expression of shock-horror as Dale quickly cut Patrick’s shirt off, revealing a terrible open wound on the top of his left arm, and his entire left side was grazed and bleeding. Even Gale gasped softly, and she grabbed some gauze to attempt to control the bleeding. Patrick cried out in pain, and flinched as soon as it came in contact with his skin.

“Pete, honey, I need you to help me hold him down.” Dale instructed. “Hold his arms, tightly. Don’t let him go, okay?”

“O-Okay…” Pete stammered, trying to get into position. Patrick was crying out from the pain, and rested his head back on Pete’s chest while Dale went through more and more gauze.

“I know it hurts ‘Ricky, I’m sorry.” She murmured when he cried out once again. “You’re doing so good, so, so good. Pete, talk to him. Distract him.”

“U-Uh…” Pete stammered, holding Patrick’s arms tightly. “H-Hey Sunshine… um… you’re a r-really good guitar player?”

“Jesus Christ.” Andrew muttered, bringing back more paper towels (They’d run out of gauze by now, but the bleeding continued so it was on to kitchen supplies). “Pete, c’mon, you know him better than any of us, talk about something he likes and is good at!”

“He’s good at everything, Andrew!” Pete panicked, trying to control his breathing. He couldn’t have a panic attack right here, not while his friend needed him like this.

“Stop fighting!” Dale instructed them. “I’ve got to try and get to the big spot now, and this is the most painful, so Pete you’re gonna have to hold him even tighter, alright? Don’t let him go, no matter what.”

Patrick shook his head, the room still spinning. “Y-You gotta tie me down…”

“We’re not tying you down, sweetheart. Pete’s got you.” Dale told him.

“No, y-you don’t understand.” He mumbled. “I-I’m too strong f-for him, I’ll h-hurt you.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me, or Pete, or Andrew.” She told him. “I know you’re a super good sportsperson, but right now we’ve got you, and Pete’s a lot stronger than he looks. Andrew, grab his arms too. Hold him super still.”

Patrick was still mumbling objections when Dale gently applied the antiseptic. Then he screamed, loudly, and forced against Pete and Andrew with all his might. It was good that Andrew was there, Patrick had some serious strength in these little arms.

“I know, I’m sorry Ricky, we’re nearly done.” Dale murmured apologetically, wiping all the dirt out of the wound. “We just gotta make sure it doesn’t get infected. Can you tell me why getting infected would be a bad thing?”

“S-Septicemia…” Patrick cried out. “A-And death.”

“Maybe not death, but you might get blood poisoning and that won’t be very nice.” Dale applied the next wipe and tried to ignore the screaming. “One more, one more and then I’ll bandage it all up and you can go to bed, okay?”

Patrick just gave the tiniest of nods. Pete and Andrew held him tightly until the patch covered the open wound and gauze covered the grazing. She sent Andrew to get a sheet to cover the other sofa, and Pete gently carried Patrick over to a clean spot where he could finally rest. By the time he returned from fetching a blanket, Patrick was already fast asleep.

“Holy shit.” Andrew breathed. “What just happened?”

Pete looked at his unconscious friend and took a shaky breath. “H-He, um… I don’t know. I was in bed, I couldn’t sleep, a-and there was knocking and I answered i-it and he was here! A-And there was blood everywhere and I-I-“

“Pete, sweetheart, go have a shower and take your meds, okay?” Dale told him softly. “Deep breaths, calm down, he’s okay.”

“O-Okay Mom…”

“We’re seriously just gonna sit here while this kid sleeps on our sofa?!” Andrew exclaimed. “He needs a hospital or a doctor or something!”

“He’s stable now, it’s not deep enough to need stitches.” Dale responded, scrubbing her hands clean. “We’ll take him in once the clinic is actually open. It’s 4 in the morning, Andrew, and we don’t need to be clogging up the ER while he’s stable.”

“God, you are insane.” Andrew muttered, going to wash his own hands. 

Pete just went to shower.

\------------

Patrick slept most of the day. Pete had the fun job of mopping up the blood spilled down the hall and on the front porch, and helping his mother clean the sofa on which Patrick had laid during the morning’s debacle. When everything was clean, he just sat on the floor next to Patrick and kept an eye on him.

Mostly he slept soundly, but occasionally he’d grunt in pain, or try and scratch the bandages. Pete was on the edge, but there was no way he was leaving. He just sat and played with Patrick’s hair while watching daytime TV.

“Is he ever gonna wake up?” Hillary groaned. “I don’t want to sit on the blood couch.”

“Pete and I cleaned it, Hill. It’s not the blood couch.” Dale told her firmly.

“It’s the blood couch, Mom.” Pete informed her. “I don’t know if any of us are ever gonna sit on it again.”

She just rolled her eyes. “You kids. Anyway, how’s he doing, Pete?”

“Still sleeping. Um… he looks like he’s in a bit of pain though…”

“He needs some painkillers, but we’re gonna have to wait until he wakes up before I can give him any.” Dale explained. “And we’re not waking him up. What time did you say you dropped him home last night, Pete?”

“About 11ish?”

“And what time did he show up here?”

“About 3?”

“So I’m assuming he didn’t sleep last night.” She looked at the child on her couch and sighed. “Of all places, he walked here. He must really trust you, Pete.”

“He just wanted to borrow the first aid kit…”

Dale laughed. “He’s just a smaller, yellow-er version of you, Pete. Fiercely independent, right down to the last post.”

Pete huffed and folded his arms. “I wouldn’t say I’m like that to the point where I’d ask to treat myself while I’m bleeding out.”

Dale just shrugged. “Did he say anything to you last night? Anything about what happened?”

“Nope.”

Andrew huffed and folded his arms. “We need to call the police or something.”

“We’ll just wait until he wakes up and can explain what happened. Then we’ll take the necessary steps from there.”

Patrick slept until about 3 in the afternoon, and when he finally woke up, he panicked. “W-Where’s my hat?”

“Sunshine?!” Pete turned his head so fast he whiplashed it. “A-Ah…”

“Hat, where’s my hat?!” He went to sit up, and let out a cry of pain as he did so.

Pete gently put a hand on his right shoulder. “Don’t move, Mom’s got your hat. It had a little bit of blood so she’s cleaning it.”

Patrick exhaled slowly, and nodded. “Okay, okay…”

“You really have to stop showing up at my house at ungodly hours.” Pete forced a smile. “I told you nine.”

“I was trying to hold off but, I was bleeding.” Patrick winced as he touched the white bandage on his shoulder.

“Yeah, about that, what the fuck happened?!”

“Mugged.” Patrick muttered. “I was out last night in the park, and there were just these guys and they got my backpack. So, they got my computer and my assignment and my phone, and my umbrella, and my wallet.”

Pete frowned. “They threw you to the ground?”

Patrick nodded hesitantly. “H-Hey, do you have any painkillers?”

“Yeah, of course. Hang on, let me get Mom. MOM!”

Dale came running, and immediately fussed over her patient, doing all the routine checks that she needed to do. Patrick answered most of them, and thanked her greatly for fixing him up when he showed up at 3 in the morning.

“You really didn’t have to do that…”

“Ricky, sweetheart, if any child showed up on my porch at 3am bleeding to death, then I’d help them. You’re more than welcome.”

He giggled. “Okay, thank you.”

“Now, do you need to call anyone, and let them know you’re okay?”

“U-Um, probably Kevin…” He nodded, forcing himself to sit up and wincing against the pain.

Dale nodded and handed him her phone. “Pete, come help me make some lunch.”

Neither of them could hear the phone call from the kitchen, but Pete did have an uncertain feeling about it. The fact that it only really lasted two minutes was also slightly concerning, but Patrick was just as smiley as before when Pete returned with a bowl of soup and some bread.

“Thank you, Pete.”

“It’s alright Sunshine.” Pete sat down next to him “Sorry about your shirt, it wasn’t able to be salvaged.”

“It’s okay. It’s just clothes.”

“Mmmm.”

“How long do you think your Mom will let me stay?” Patrick asked.

“Honestly? I don’t know if she’ll ever let you leave.” Pete joked. “No, but she’s cool. She’s just worried about you, you can stay as long as you want.”

“Okay, cool.” He breathed. “I won’t be here long though, I’ll probably go home tonight.”

“Tonight? Seriously? Sunshine, you can’t even sit up on your own without some very strong painkillers. You gotta see a doctor and talk to the police about your backpack.”

“I’m fine, Pete.” Patrick responded. “I don’t wanna hang around.”

Pete frowned, but didn’t argue. “Mom wants to take you down to the station to talk about who mugged you.”

“They were wearing masks, I didn’t see their faces.”

“You didn’t see their faces because you weren’t mugged, Sunshine.” Pete accused. “I’ve seen that video of you winning that boxing tournament. If you were mugged, you would’ve fought back, and you sure as hell would have won. So, are you gonna tell me what actually happened?”

“You don’t know that.” Patrick hissed.

“Brendon found your backpack.” Pete informed. “In the ditch at the park. Everything intact. If you were mugged, then there’s no way in hell that your attackers would’ve left it in plain sight like that.”

Patrick was silent.

“So are you gonna tell me what happened?”

“No.”

Pete hadn’t prepared for that answer, and frowned. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Alright.” He sighed. “You can talk to the police with Mom then. Go ahead and waste their time.”

\-------------

Somehow, Patrick managed to talk Dale out of both seeing a doctor and seeing the police. She’d given him a shirt to wear from the boxes in the garage (not a yellow one, sadly, but Patrick still had his yellow jeans so everything was okay), and given him a care package of clean bandages and some more painkillers to take home. Pete drove.

“Are you actually gonna let me drive you home today or are you gonna be stubborn?” He asked, not taking his eyes off the road.

“Stubborn.” Patrick muttered.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you know there’s like, help available or whatever?”

“I know.”

“Okay, good.”

The conversation was silent for the rest of the drive.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Pete offered. “At 9?”

“Yep!” Patrick smiled, climbing out of the car. “I’ll see you then.”

Pete dropped him off and drove away, his mind reeling with possibilities. Who on earth _was_ this kid?!


	9. Pete starts to interrogate his little sunshine friend to hopefully get some information out of him, and Pete and Patrick go to the mall

Patrick arrived at the Wentz household on Sunday morning at the much-more-appropriate time of 8:48 in the morning, and sat on the chair on the front porch until the clock struck nine. Pete opened the door and had to blink a couple of times. “Hey, Sunshine. You’re looking… more yellow than normal today.”

Normally Patrick wore majority yellow with some other colour to offset it, for example a yellow shirt and blue jeans, or yellow jeans and a black jacket. Today he was top to toe in bright yellow, from his shirt to his jeans to his cardigan to his boots and hat – it was almost blinding.

Patrick just giggled. “I felt like it was necessary.”

“Right.” Pete muttered. “Come on.”

Patrick nodded and stepped inside. “Where’s your Mom?”

“The kitchen, why?”

Patrick opened his backpack (A different one to the one which had been ‘stolen’ and was now in safekeeping at Brendon’s house), and withdrew a bunch of yellow flowers tied with a ribbon. “These are for her. To, um, say thank you for yesterday.”

“You’re a better son to her than I am.” Pete acknowledged with a slight chuckle, directing him to the kitchen.

Dale gasped in delight when the sunshine boy presented her with the flowers, and she just pulled him into a hug. “You’re such a sweetheart, you know that?”

Patrick giggled. “Thank you.”

“Have you had breakfast?” She offered. “I’m making bacon and eggs if you’d like some.”

“That sounds amazing.” Patrick beamed. 

“Take a seat at the table, it’ll only be a few minutes.”

Andrew and Hillary joined Pete and Patrick for breakfast, and it was a lovely family morning with shared food. It was really quite hard to imagine the boy who was now happily dressed in yellow and giggling while eating bacon and eggs was the same boy who had nearly bled to death on Pete’s sofa only a day before. The only visible sign of anything different was the blood stain that hadn’t quite come out of Patrick’s hat in the wash, and the edge of the bandage that was visible under his shirt.

“So, what are you boys planning to do today?” Dale asked her youngest son and the boy in yellow.

Pete shrugged. “Make some music, I guess? Just hang out?”

“Sounds lovely.” She smiled. “Hillary and I were going to head to the mall a bit later if you’d like to come.”

“Ugh.” Pete grunted. “No thank you.”

“You need some more school clothes, Pete.”

“I’ll have you know my 5 Metallica t-shirts are a perfect wardrobe.” He rebutted.

Patrick giggled. “I only wear one colour, and even I have more than that.”

“See, you can’t be having that.” Dale chuckled. “Besides, I’ve got to replace the yellow shirt that didn’t survive yesterday.”

“Oh, no, that’s alright.” Patrick’s demeanour immediately changed. “You gave me all those other clothes the other day.”

“We’ll stay here, Mom.” Pete told her firmly.

“School clothes, Pete.” She retorted.

“So it’s _not_ a choice then.” He muttered. “Whatever.”

\--------------

If there was anything Pete hated more than math, it was shopping. He liked t-shirts (Which he technically could order online without leaving his house) and black jeans (which he already had about 8 pairs of). Sure, his jackets were all too small now and it was coming into winter, but that was no reason to drag him to the mall.

Dale handed Pete a couple of bills with firm instructions to buy clothing (not anything else, like he was known to do in this situation. Last shopping trip he was told to purchase a jacket and came away with a new stereo system, much to the delight of Pete and disapproval of his mother). She then handed Patrick a small amount of cash as well, for a new shirt to replace the one that had been disposed of yesterday.

Patrick, of course, tried to hand it back, but Dale was faster. “Now, listen, Pete, you take care of him, alright?”

“Course, Mom.”

“And you!” She turned to Patrick. “Take care of him, alright?”

Patrick giggled. “I promise I will.”

“Good. Bonus points if you can get him to buy something that’s not black. I’ll meet you two back here at 12.”

Being out with Patrick was a strange experience for Pete. His yellow outfit drew a lot of looks, some of interest, and some of disgust. Patrick, of course, didn’t take notice of any of this, and filled the silence between them with some mindless chatter about having not been to a mall in years, and how excited he was to be here.

Pete tried to change the conversation to something a lot more serious. “So, are you gonna tell me what happened on Friday night yet?”

“Nope.” Patrick giggled, ignoring Pete’s tone and pulling him by the hand.

“What on earth were you even doing in the park?” Pete muttered. “That’s where Brendon found your bag, so that’s where you must’ve thrown it. It was late, what were you doing out?”

“Look Pete!” Patrick pointed to the water feature next to the food court. “That’s awesome!”

“For someone who’s travelled the world, you’re really easily impressed.”

Patrick just giggled again. “Yep.”

“Anyway, how on earth did you get to my house? The park is at least a 10 minute drive from my place. Did you seriously walk all that way while bleeding like that?”

“Look! A puppy!” Patrick ran to the windows of the pet store. “They’re so cute, Pete!”

Pete groaned and followed his friend, wondering if he was ever going to get any answers out of him. “Yeah, they are, I guess.”

“And the kittens! Look!” He ran to the other window and pressed his face against the glass, but had to pull away when he sneezed. “Stupid allergies.”

Pete dragged him away. “C’mon, let’s see if I can convince you to buy something that’s not yellow.”

Patrick laughed and shook his head. “Not happening.”

“I’m gonna give you a punk makeover.” Pete grinned.

“Yellow can be punk?”

“Nope.” He responded. “Let’s go find you some leather or something.”

They quickly ran into problems with that plan. It was easy to find cool punk clothes in a lot of Pete’s go-to stores, but the fact was that Patrick was simply too small to wear them. In fact, the only store in which they _did_ find a leather jacket that would actually fit him was a kidswear store, and there was a little bumblebee embroidered on the pocket.

“Why do you have to be so small?” Pete muttered.

Patrick giggled and hung it back up (ensuring it was in the exact same place where Pete grabbed it from), before being drawn to a rack of yellow button-up shirts. Pete grabbed his hand and pulled him away before he could reach it, and Patrick just poked his tongue out at him.

“The whole point of this shopping trip is you, so let’s go find something for you.” Patrick responded.

“Fine.”

Back to the punk stores they went. Pete found himself a new Metallica t-shirt (in black, of course), and new pair of black jeans to add to his wardrobe. He found a black sweatshirt which he didn’t mind either, and added that to his pile. He about about ready to check out when Patrick came at him with a denim jacket.

“No, sunshine.” He responded flatly.

“What, because it’s not black, you won’t try it?” Patrick gave him a knowing grin. “Just try it on.”

“I’m not getting that jacket.”

“Please?” Patrick made puppy-dog eyes. “For me? Just try it on.”

Pete huffed in frustration and snatched the jacket off the boy in yellow before pulling it on. “There, happy?!”

“It suits you, Pete!” Patrick complimented, pointing him to the mirror. “Blue’s your colour!”

“ _Black_ is my colour.”

“It suits you though!” Patrick appeared in the mirror beside him. “It’s super nice.”

Pete had to admit that it was a nice jacket, and a somewhat nice change from his monotony of clothing choices. Plus, it still could pass as semi-punk, and reluctantly added it to his pile. Patrick just giggled.

“I’ll buy the jacket,” Pete raised an eyebrow. “If you tell me why you were out so late on Friday night.”

Patrick’s face immediately fell and he went silent. “That’s not fair…”

“C’mon, I won’t judge you or anything, I just wanna know. I dropped you off, and it was late, and you just wanted to go home. So what were you doing out?”

Patrick clenched his fists. “That’s none of your business.”

Pete started hanging the coat back up. 

“Fine, fine!” Patrick huffed and folded his arms. “I’m a short sleeper, okay!?”

“Short sleeper? What the fuck does that mean?”

“It’s a sleep disorder.” Patrick muttered. “It means I don’t need as much as normal people.”

“And that’s why you were out?”

“Well, when you only need 3 hours of sleep a night, you have a lot more time to do weird stuff. Like going for midnight walks in the park to clear your head where you’re mugged and someone takes your backpack and drops it in a ditch for some reason.”

“3 hours?!”

Patrick huffed again, and turned away. “Get your stupid jacket and I’ll meet you outside.”

“Sunshine, I’m sorry.” Pete grabbed his shoulder as he turned away, and Patrick cried out in pain. Pete immediately paled and let him go, before frowning. “Your miraculous recovery isn’t exactly as miraculous as you’re trying to make it seem, isn’t it?”

“Drop it, Pete.” Patrick muttered, quickly leaving the store for the bench outside.

Pete bought his clothes and ran out to find his friend. Patrick was just waiting patiently, swinging his legs off the edge of the chair as they didn’t _quite_ touch the floor. Gone was his angry demeanor, and he just beamed. “Got it?”

“Got it.” Pete responded, slightly confused.

“Cool.” Patrick jumped up. “Let’s keep going then.”

“Sunshine, you don’t have to pretend to be fine if you’re not, you know?”

“I’m fine though.” He defended with a smile. “C’mon, I wanna see if I can find a new pair of yellow shoes. They’re hard to find, and I need another pair of running shoes.”

In his confusion, Pete just nodded and followed Patrick through the countless shoe stores until he found a pair of running shoes that were yellow enough for his liking. They were kids shoes, his feet were too small for the mens sizes, but he liked them a whole lot and smiled at Pete. “Are they good?”

“If something’s going on at home, you don’t have to be secretive and shy about it.” Pete offered instead of a reply to the question. “Like, I dunno, I’m not the most social person and I’m a bit awkward, but a problem shared is a problem halved? You don’t have to put up with it…”

“That’s not what I asked.” Patrick frowned.

“Look, Sunshine, the shoes are great. If you like them, get them, but there’s some serious stuff going on, and I’m _worried_ about you.”

Patrick just folded his arms. “I can take care of myself.”

“Sometimes even the smartest people in the world need to share their problems.” Pete responded. “For the longest time I refused help for anything because I was embarrassed. I thought it meant that I failed, that I wasn’t good enough. But honestly, not getting the help when I knew I needed it is my biggest regret. So, just, learn from my mistakes, okay?”

Patrick just went to buy his shoes.

\------------

Patrick didn’t show up to school on Monday, and that only made Pete more worried.

His absence was very much missed in music, and everyone seemed to miss the little boy in yellow who’d sit up the front of the room because he couldn’t see over anyone else’s heads. Brendon, in particular, sat looking at the empty chair with a sad expression. “Is he sick, Pete?”

“He seemed fine yesterday, but he’s been, I don’t know, a little _off_ this weekend…”

“Off? What do you mean, off?”

“I mean, like, he was still happy and stuff but it seemed forced?” Pete tried to find the words. “And he just got upset a couple of times, and yeah.”

“This isn’t about Friday night, is it?” Hayley asked, visibly nervous.

“I don’t think so…” Pete mumbled, trying not to think of the sight of Patrick covered in blood at his door on Saturday morning. 

“Weird.” Brendon remarked. “Have you texted him?”

“You have his phone, remember?” Pete reminded. “In his backpack.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, that was weird to find. I was out running and boom, it was just like, sitting there.” Brendon frowned. “What was it you said about him getting mugged?”

“Patrick was mugged?” Gerard asked.

“Well, I-I, he came to m-me on Saturday morning, and h-he was hurt a little but he was fine.” Pete stammered. “He’s fine.”

“As long as our munchkin wasn’t hurt…” Nicole frowned. “But if he was mugged, then why was his backpack left out in the open?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Pete ran a hand through his hair.

Professor Hoppus entered the room when the bell went, and took one look at his class before frowning. “Where’s Sunshine?”

“We don’t know.” Dallon shrugged. “He lives off the grid. He’s got no phone, and we have no way to contact him. Pete said he was fine yesterday.”

“Have you heard anything?” Pete asked, the desperation in his voice apparent.

“Not yet.” Professor Hoppus frowned. “But we have work to do, so let’s get started for today by giving your group assignments back.”

Hushed silence fell over the room, as the tension hung in the air. There was always an element of terror when assignments were being handed back, especially in a program as competitive as this. Professor Hoppus grabbed the pile of papers from their first official composition task, and began walking around the room as he handed them out. Pete covered the red letter with his thumb at first, he didn’t even want to know.

But this was the assignment that he did with Patrick, and as he considered exactly how much effort Patrick had put in, he slowly moved his thumb. The letter was pointy, with a dash in the middle, and there was a plus beside it, as well as a little smiley face.

“Now, as much as I want to say I was impressed by all of you, I just can’t.” The professor sighed and sat on the edge of his desk. “For most of you, this is a wake-up call. This is a tough program, and you’re gonna have to pick up your game if you wanna do well. That’s not to say we didn’t have our standout, and in this assignment that was Pete and Patrick’s composition.”

Everyone clapped, and as much as Pete wanted to enjoy it, he couldn’t. He couldn’t take all the credit by himself. This was an achievement that Sunshine needed to be here for. But he wasn’t, and something in the back of Pete’s mind blamed himself for it.


	10. Patrick disappears for a few days and everyone loses their minds, while Pete recieves a few mysterious phone calls and tries to piece together the puzzle

3 days passed with no sign of Patrick at school, and everyone started to get a little bit worried about him. The music class asked their professor for daily updates, but every day Professor Hoppus returned that he hadn’t heard anything. That was, until Wednesday.

“Patrick is safe, and he’s healthy.” He reported, sitting down at his chair. “And that’s all I’m allowed to tell you.”

“You’ve heard from him?” Pete asked, his heart pounding in his chest.

“I’ve heard _about_ him.” The professor responded. “Not from him directly. But he’s fine, and I figured you guys deserved to know that.”

“Do you have any contact details?” Brendon asked. “Anything you can give us so we can reach him?”

Professor Hoppus just sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry guys, I know you’re all stressed, I can see it in your music. But he’s okay, and I’m afraid that’s all I have for you.”

\------------

It was very late on Wednesday night, about 11pm, and Pete was just packing up to get ready for bed when his phone started ringing from an unknown number. At first he ignored it – Pete didn’t take unknown calls as most of them turned out to be scammers or telemarketers – but then realised he only knew one person who liked to stay up really late and didn’t have a phone with a regular number to call from.

“Pete?” Patrick asked quietly when he answered the phone.

“Sunshine! Where the hell are you?!” Pete rushed. “Everyone’s freaking out, you just fell of the edge of the planet and after Saturday and I’m freaking out!”

“I know, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was going.” Patrick spoke quietly, as if he didn’t want anyone to hear his conversation. “I’m in LA, visiting my brother and doing a bit of work.”

“LA?! How the hell did you get to LA?!”

“Plane?”

“So let me get this straight.” Pete frowned. “I drop you off on Sunday, say see you tomorrow, and you smile and agree, and then jump on a plane to LA?”

“Well, it sounds silly when you put it like that.” Patrick responded. “The trip was planned, I just, forgot about it, pretty much.”

“Right.” Pete muttered. “So what exact work are you doing in LA?”

“Just normal stuff.” He sighed. “Exams and stuff. You know how I told you I have that sleeping thing?”

“Yeah, you’re some kind of superhuman who doesn’t need a full night’s rest.”

“I’m _not_ superhuman.” Patrick defended quickly, before sighing. “I’ve been doing another degree, online, at the University of California. My architecture one. I just have to come on campus every few months to do the exams for it.”

“So you’re just off doing smart people things?”

“If that’s how you wanna put it.” Patrick muttered. “But mostly I’m here to see my brother. I don’t see him lots and I miss him.”

Pete frowned, and thought about his own brother, who he personally thought he saw too much of. But Patrick was a lot younger, and he thought about what it’d be like for Hillary if she only saw Andrew a couple of times a year. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, especially considering how far away Patrick’s brother lived. Pete hadn’t even been on a plane before, let alone having to fly to the other side of the country just to see his family.

“So… how are your exams going?” Pete tried to make normal conversation.

“Fine, I guess.” Patrick replied. “Architecture sounds a lot more fun in the description than it actually is.”

Pete laughed. “Yeah, that’s generally how these courses work. How long are you gonna hang out in LA?”

“Just for the rest of the week. I’ll be back soon. Hey, don’t tell any of the others about my exams, okay? Just let them know I’m visiting Kevin and that I’ll be back next week.”

“You don’t want them to know?”

“They don’t need to know that I’m doing another degree. I’ve told them all I’m on a break from college, to make friends and stuff. Plus, I don’t want them thinking I’m superhuman or whatever because of my sleep thing. The only reason I’m doing this course is literally to fill my time.”

Pete frowned. “Right. Okay. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Patrick breathed. “Do you want me to bring you back anything from LA?”

“I’m alright. Have fun with your brother. Is this a number I can contact you on?”

“I’m at a payphone right now, so probably not.” Patrick admitted.

“A payphone?” Pete asked, sprouting a smile. “Do they even still have those?”

“Considering I’m using one right now, I’m gonna say yeah.”

“Huh. Cool.” Pete laid back on his bed. “Hey, is everything alright? You sound a little stressed.”

“It’s just exams and stuff, and the fact that I’m nearly out of change.” Patrick sighed. “But I figured I owed you a phone call to explain my disappearance.”

“Thanks for letting me know, I guess.” Pete stated. “But um… why’d you wait three days?”

Pete didn’t get an answer. The phone hung up, and he sighed. Patrick must’ve run out of change. Pete had no many questions, but it seemed he wasn’t getting an answer anytime soon.

\----------

The next phone call came at 2am on Friday morning, and Pete scrambled to answer it. “Sunshine?!”

“Hey, Pete.” Patrick answered quietly. “Did I wake you up?”

“No, I was working on my math homework.” He lied, praying his friend wouldn’t leave the line. “How’s it going?”

“Yeah, fine. I’m coming home tomorrow.”

“Oh cool! Hey, is everything alright?”

“Yeah. Do you have any ideas for any excuses I can give to get out of the maths Olympiad?”

“Have they asked you to do it again?” Pete asked. “That’s awesome, Sunshine!”

“No! It’s really not!” Patrick sounded upset. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to be with those people. I want to come home. Do you have any excuses I can give?”

“Excuses? I dunno… just that you need to be at school?”

“Already tried that. It doesn’t work when you already graduated.” Patrick moped.

“Right. Um… you have a friend who’s mentally unstable and needs you?” Pete offered. “I can email you certificates to prove I’m insane and everything.”

“That’s… a little too far…”

“You don’t think they’d believe it?”

“No, I think they would, but I don’t wanna throw you under the bus like that.” Patrick admitted.

“It’s all good if you want to, I don’t mind.” Pete spoke gently. “Why don’t you wanna go?”

“Because it’s on the other side of the world and it’s in the middle of the Semester and I don’t like to go overseas a whole lot and the kids are just mean, and it’s just awful, okay?!” Patrick sniffled. “I don’t want to see those people and I don’t want to leave the country with them.”

“Sunshine, they can’t make you go.” Pete frowned. “Just tell them that you’re not going this year because you’re having a break. They can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to.”

“Then I’m being selfish.” Patrick muttered. “This is the problem! If I don’t do something that I’m smart enough to do, I’m being selfish. I’m not helping the country win the Olympiad, I’m being selfish. Apparently if I can do something for the country then I owe it to them to do it. They won’t win it without me, Pete, and they know that, so they just make me feel really guilty for not going!”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, it’s just me.” Pete tried to soothe. “They just seem like assholes, kid. You don’t owe them anything, and you don’t have to go. Can you talk to your Dad or something and get him to say that you’re not allowed to go? You’re a minor, he has control.”

Patrick sighed. “I’m sorry I woke you up, I’ll, I’ll go-“

Pete cut him off. “No! Don’t! Please, just, I haven’t spoken to you in days, and, just, please. Do you have enough change to keep going?”

“I, um, yeah?” Patrick sounded surprised. 

“Okay, cool…” Pete breathed a sigh of relief. “Just, don’t leave yet. What else have you been up to in LA?”

“Not a whole lot. Just sitting around Kevin’s dorm, I guess. Um… we went out for dinner last night, that was fun.”

“That sounds good!”

“Yeah, it was alright. We had Italian.” Patrick smiled slightly, before it fizzled out. “I had another exam, and now they’re all done, so that’s good. Um… I went for a walk to the beach? That was fun. And I saw my old professor who I don’t really get to see a whole lot, so that was exciting. I saw my doctor? That was alright. And um… hmm… I went shopping and got a new hat. And yeah. That’s it.” 

“Sounds like a nice trip.” Pete smiled.

“It’s been alright.” Patrick sighed. “I just wished that the Olympiad people would leave me alone. It’s not just even the maths one anymore. They want me to do all of them.”

“How many are there?”

“Thirteen.”

“Shit.”

“Uh huh.” Patrick grumbled. “That’s 13 weeks of the year doing stuff I don’t want to do because I’m smart enough to do it.”

“Just say no, Sunshine. That or use me as a mentally unstable friend who relies on you, because I kinda do. It’s been a long week without you.”

“I miss you too.” Patrick mumbled. “When I get back, can we go and do something? I don’t know, just, get in your car and drive somewhere. We could go and see a movie or something, I’m not sure, but I just want to do something.”

“That sounds really nice. I’d like that.” Pete smiled.

“Awesome. Hey, I’m gonna let you get back to sleep, and I’m gonna go watch the sunrise at the beach. Thanks for waking up to talk to me, Pete.”

“Thanks for calling me Sunshine. I can’t wait to see you.”

“I can’t wait to see you either.”

\--------------

Patrick showed up at Pete’s house at 9am on Saturday morning, having come straight from the airport. The door opened, and Pete immediately wrapped him in a hug. “Sunshine!”

Patrick giggled and hugged him back. “Pete!”

“I’ve missed you!” Pete laughed, letting him go. “Don’t leave like that again, okay?”

“I promise I won’t.” Patrick beamed. “I got my backpack back from Brendon’s house, can you help me with my composition? It’s due on Monday and not having your laptop for a week in LA can really cut down on the amount of time you have to work on it.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Pete smiled. “But you gotta go say hello to Mom first, I think she’s missed you as much as I did.”

The reunion between Dale and Patrick was about as cute as anyone would expect, especially considering Patrick brought another bunch of flowers. Dale just started asking all sorts of questions about his week away while making him pancakes for breakfast.

“Mom, we have actual work to do.” Pete smiled in amusement, sitting beside his friend.

“I want to hear about the trip!” She defended.

“Your thing about being friends with my friends is getting weird, Mom.”

“You still love me though.”

“True.”

Patrick just giggled. “LA was fun, I got to spend a lot of time with my brother.”

“Oh that sounds good! How old’s your brother?”

“Andrew’s age. He’s studying out in California and I visit him sometimes and it’s fun. And I did my final architecture exams, so hopefully they went well. I got a new hat!”

“It’s very cute, sweetheart.” Dale smiled. “So, if you pass these exams you get your architecture degree?”

“Uh huh.” Patrick nodded. “I dunno what to do next though. I’m thinking psychology, but I dunno yet. There’s a lot of choices.”

She just rolled her eyes playfully. “Have you considered, maybe, taking a break?”

“Then what would I do with myself?” Patrick joked. “I like studying. It’s fun, except for when it’s architecture. And it gives me a reason to visit Kevin.”

“Do you see Kevin a whole lot?” She asked, trying to hide the concern in her voice.

“Maybe 3 times a year?” He shrugged. “He goes home with his girlfriend for the holidays, so really I only see him when I go and visit. But it’s always a good time to see him and we have a lot of fun. When I was gonna go back to high school originally I was gonna stay in LA so I could be with him, but in the end I just decided to stay here.”

“I’m glad you chose to stay here.” Pete smiled, putting a hand on Patrick’s shoulder.

"Me too." Patrick beamed.

Dale smiled and presented them both with breakfast. “Alright, I’ll leave you alone now. Stay safe, don’t do drugs.”

Pete rolled his eyes. “You have no faith in us, Mom.”

\---------------

The two laid in Pete’s bed, with Patrick doing most of the computer work and Pete giving his input every now and again on how he could make it better. He took every piece of feedback on board, and it was really nice to sit back and just make some music like this.

The sun was setting through the window, and the afternoon sun illuminated the bed. Pete looked over at his friend, the sunshine glowing off his features as he concentrated on the song. The room was lovely and warm, as was his arm as he laid shoulder-to-shoulder with Patrick.

He was comfortable and relaxed, and happy. Pete didn’t remember being this happy for a long time.

“Hey, Sunshine…” He trailed off uncertainly. “Hey, do you, um…”

“Hmm?” Patrick glanced up at him, and adjusted his glasses, before smiling that smile that made Pete feel all gooey inside.

“C-Can I try something?”

“Sure.” Patrick giggled.

Pete hesitated for a moment, before leaning over and gently pecking a kiss to Patrick’s cheek, before flushing bright red. “I-I-I’m sorry, I-I-I-“

“Can I try something?” Patrick asked, his face going red as well, but his smile only growing.

“O-Okay…”

Patrick leaned forward and gently pressed a kiss to Pete’s lips, before pulling away with a grin. “I-Is that okay?”

“That w-was amazing, Sunshine…”

Patrick just smiled in reply, and took Pete’s hand. “I missed you when I was away.”

“I missed you too.”


	11. Pete is really not very good at math, but it’s a good thing that Patrick is and is able sit with him while he does his homework.

Pete was used to failing.

Not that it was a good thing, nobody _likes_ to be failing their classes. But as his math test was handed back to him with a big fat fail written across the front of it, he felt his heart sink in his chest. It sucks to fail, but it sucks more to fail when you put so many hours in to try and not-fail. He spent hours sitting at home, going over these stupid calculus problems, and constantly was trying to pull his grades up.

All for what? Another fail. To say he was disheartened was an understatement. Pete was absolutely gutted. He had tried really, really hard on this, because he needed to pass math in order to stay in his music program, and he only had a certain amount of time allocated to pull his grades up.

That amount of time was fast running out, and he’d failed, once again.

It was getting harder to concentrate in his classes, not just math. He missed Patrick. He spent most classes sitting in anticipating, waiting for that moment where he could run down to the music room and sit with his friend. If they’d already had music that day, he sat in anticipation for the moment when the bell would ring and it was time to go home.  
Patrick had been coming over every afternoon after school recently, and it was a routine that everyone seemed to enjoy. They’d sit in Pete’s room for ages, normally playing music or doing homework, and then they’d go and watch TV together until late, where Pete would just drop Patrick back at the school and go home, before collapsing into bed with a smile on his face.

Love consumed Pete like his brother consumed food. It was all he could think about, from the moment he woke up in the morning until he closed his eyes at night. Every day was made brighter when his Sunshine was in it. It made it hard to focus on anything really, especially math.

That just brought him crashing back to reality as he sat in his math classroom as the rain poured outside the window. It was a grey and cold day, one drained of colour and life. The paper in front of him sat like a dark mark on his skin, one that demonstrated he wasn’t good enough to be here. Despite all the work that he could put in, he wasn’t smart enough to get it right.

It wasn’t a good feeling.

\------------

Pete saw Patrick in music, and everything was okay again. They reunited with a hug, as they always did these days, and sat together in the front row while Professor Hoppus talked about some music theory. They held hands during the lecture, Patrick’s a perfect fit for Pete’s, like two puzzle pieces that had finally found each other after so many years.

They hadn’t said anything to anyone yet. Not their friends, not their families. Pete didn’t know how to explain it. Obviously their age difference was a huge issue, and he wasn’t sure how the other music kids would react. Obviously they’d seen Pete and Patrick being a little more together over the past few weeks, but nobody had said anything. Besides, he wasn’t even sure what him and Patrick _were_ yet. Sure, they hung out a whole lot and held hands, and kissed sometimes when it was late and they were alone in Pete’s bedroom, but they hadn’t officially given themselves a label yet.

Not that that mattered, of course, Pete didn’t need a label to experience the feelings he was getting, and from the looks of things, Patrick didn’t either. They didn’t need to tell anyone just yet, at least not until they worked things out for themselves.

And Pete still hadn’t exactly worked out how he was going to tell his sister.

When the lecture was over the lunch bell had gone, it was time to part ways. Patrick still was the popular kid, the kid who everyone wanted to sit with and talk to. In fact, his popularity had only grown over the recent weeks. He’d even been invited to Andy’s big birthday party, the type of party where there were no parents and alcohol ran rampant. Even Pete hadn’t been invited, and he was the senior. He understood why, he didn’t really ever talk to his peers, but it a weird Saturday night to think about Patrick having the time of his life at a party.

Patrick had offered not to go, and instead spend more time with Pete, but Pete was adamant. He wanted his friend to experience everything he wanted to - he’d come back to high school for this sort of thing after all, and Pete wasn’t going to stand in the way of that. It had become clear recently that all Patrick really wanted was to be seen as another kid, not as some weird child-genius who didn’t belong. He just wanted to be a part of the high school social scene, and Pete just wanted him to be happy. Just as long as Pete didn’t have to go to any parties. So Patrick went.

Pete was getting ready to go and sit in his usual spot outside the science labs, when Patrick reached out and took his hand. “Hey, do you wanna come with me today?”

“Sunshine, I don’t sit in the cafeteria.” Pete responded, like it was fact and Patrick should already know this.

“I know you get nervous and stuff, but I’ll be there, and if it gets too much, we can leave.” Patrick smiled that goddamn smile, and Pete’s insides melted.

“I, I dunno…”

“I think you’d really like it, and I think they’ll really like you.” Patrick picked his schoolbag up. “And I don’t wanna sit apart anymore. I miss you.”

“Okay…” Pete murmured. “But we leave if it’s too much?”

Patrick giggled and hugged him. “Thank you!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, just, we leave if it gets too much?”

“We leave if it gets too much.” Patrick nodded in agreement.

Pete tensed up as soon as they entered the cafeteria, the room was filled to the brim with hundreds of teenagers and it was hard to navigate. He just focused on the sensation of Patrick’s hand in his own, and let his friend lead the way to the table up the back.

It was quieter back here, less crowded than the doorway, but there were still a lot of people at the table. Pete took a spot on the edge, that way he could turn away if he needed, and it was a lot less crowded. Patrick sat beside him, and held his hand under the table for comfort during the discussion.

The group wasn’t exactly what Pete expected, of course there were the many popular kids, but there were also a high level of misfits and kids that didn’t have a whole lot of friends. He recognised Elliot, a sophomore who ran the photography club. He wasn’t welcomed into a whole lot of places, mostly because teenagers are self-conscious who don’t enjoy their photos being taken, but Patrick welcomed him here. He was happy here, wearing a smile that Pete hadn’t seen before.

Patrick just had that effect on people. He was a literal ray of sunshine on this school, bringing joy to anyone who came into contact with him. Pete was luckiest kid here to have Patrick give him so much love.

They talked about the most random things, but it was the most random group of kids, so it fit. They discussed anything and everything from the school’s basketball team to the family of birds that had made their nest in the corner of the gymnasium. At first Pete clenched Patrick’s hand tightly, and tried to focus on his breathing, but as the minutes passed and everything was still happy and golden, he relaxed. He joined in the conversation. He _laughed_.

Patrick made everything okay, and Pete couldn’t be more grateful.

\---------

The two were sitting on Pete’s bed, Patrick’s head resting on Pete’s shoulder as they did their homework. Patrick was typing up a biology essay at record speed (it wasn’t exactly a difficult task, especially not for Patrick), and Pete was painfully going through his math notes.

“Having fun?” Patrick asked mindlessly, not looking up from his screen.

“I failed another test.” Pete muttered in annoyance. “I need to know this stupid stuff.”

Patrick frowned and glanced over. “You failed?”

“I put effort in, too. Like, I didn’t sit and do math for every second of every day, but I studied a hell of a lot more than I normally do, and it’s just, awful.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“That sucks, I’m sorry.” Patrick frowned, genuinely sympathetic.

“Are you any good at calculus?” Pete asked hopefully.

“I, um, yeah, you could say that?”

“Is, is there any chance you could help me with this stuff? Just, I need to pass. If I don’t pass, then I’m gonna be kicked out of music, and I can’t be kicked out of music.”

Patrick smiled, and kissed Pete’s cheek. “Of course.”

Patrick wasn’t lying when he said he was good at calculus, and it became very clear to Pete that he was _excellent_ at calculus. It was always a surprise when Patrick was good at something else though. It would’ve been expected that Pete would have gotten used to Patrick knowing something else, but every new skill he pulled out was awe-inspiring and brilliant.

Eventually Patrick noticed in the middle of explaining derivatives and integrals that Pete was staring at him, and went red. “What?”

“Nothing, just, you’re amazing, that’s all.” Pete smiled.

“I wouldn’t say amazing…”

“I would. I’d say the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and that makes me the luckiest person on earth.”

Patrick went even redder, if that was possible, and giggled. “That’s not true.”

“It definitely is.” Pete smiled, taking Patrick’s hand. “You’re amazing, and I don’t deserve you.”

“Shhh.” Patrick’s lips met Pete’s, and everything was golden.

Everything _was_ golden for about 10 seconds, before the door flew open. “Hey, Patrick, what’d you put in your essay about the difference between the HIV virus and-“ She trailed off into silence, seeing her crush and her brother in the middle of a moment of passion. Patrick quickly pulled away, and both boys went red.

“I can explain?” Pete offered nervously.

“Um…” Hillary’s eyes flicked between Patrick and her brother. “Holy shit.”

“Don’t tell Mom.” Pete pleaded. “You don’t understand.”

“I think I do.” She responded. “You guys were just kissing.”

“Yeah…”

There was a moment of silence. Pete hung his head, feeling guilt pool in his stomach. Then everything changed course, when Hillary squealed. “You two are adorable, oh my god!”

Patrick was surprised as well, and looked up at her in confusion. “You’re, okay with this?”

“’Trick, I’ve known you were gay from the moment you walked onto campus.” She laughed. “And Pete told me last year. I ship it, honestly. You guys are great.”

“You won’t tell Mom?” Pete reiterated.

“I’m pretty sure Mom already knows.” She smiled. “We see you holding hands and stuff, you haven’t exactly been subtle. She thinks it’s cute, don’t worry.”

Patrick went pink and giggled, and Pete just sighed softly. “Right, okay. Just, don’t tell her about this. I need time, to, um, figure stuff out.”

“Course, bro.” She chuckled. “But seriously Patrick, can I borrow your essay?”

He leapt up and handed her his computer. “Remember to reference everything back to the original sources.”

She just smiled and hugged him. “Always.”

\-------------

Everything was going so swimmingly that it seemed all the drama regarding Patrick had faded into the past. There was no news of him being asked to go to the Olympiad, no news of him getting mugged, and the incident where he’d showed up in the middle of the night faded into grey.

That was, until it happened again.

It was a full three months after the first incident, and it happened at 11pm rather than 3am, but there was a knock at the door and Pete got up to answer it.

This time, the wound was on his neck, and the blood was everywhere. Pete couldn’t even tell if the shirt he was wearing was once yellow, it was red now, as were most of his pants. He was as white as a ghost, all colour drained from his face, and he stumbled over as soon as the door opened.

“MOM!”

“P-Pete.” Patrick wheezed, hanging onto his friend for dear life. “First a-aid kit…”

The blood couch was given a second use as Patrick laid on it, and Dale paled as soon as she saw him. “O-Oh my god, Ricky…”

Pete shoved the first aid kit at her with shaking hands. “Fix it, Mom! P-Please!”

She pulled his shirt down and put pressure on the wound. “Pete, you gotta call an ambulance honey, he’s struck an artery.”

“N-No!” Patrick cried out. “No ambulance!”

“Patrick, sweetheart, you’re going to bleed to death on my sofa if we don’t get you to a hospital.” Dale informed, the panic clearly visible on her face as she held the rag to his neck.

Patrick shook his head, and went to get up. Pete immediately pushed him back down, and grabbed his phone. Patrick cried objections, and at one point tried saying that he was fine, but when he passed out it was clear he wasn’t.

Pete was so shaken up, he probably could have passed out as well.

The paramedics arrived and took him away, and Pete tried to answer all he knew. Which in truth, wasn’t a whole lot. He knew that something like this had happened before, and the scar on his shoulder was proof, but that was it. He didn’t know who Patrick lived with and who possibly could have hurt him. Hell, he didn’t even know where Patrick lived. He didn’t even know a contact number for any of Patrick’s family, and they couldn’t contact anyone to tell them he was hurt badly.

And it wasn’t a good feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAhahahaha I'm so evil XD.
> 
> Anyways, thanks for all your love and support for this book! It's weird to think I actually only started it a week ago, and I've got loads of fun plotlines lined up for y'all, so this should be fun.
> 
> On the sad news part of the spectrum, my update schedule of updating crazy often is probably gonna have to be slowed down thanks to fun schoolwork and my part time job so I don't know how often it'll be, but I'll do my best to keep putting stuff out for y'all.
> 
> Thanks for your love and support once again, it means the world to me <3
> 
> -Zoe


	12. Patrick doesn’t want to be in his current position and Pete finally gets an opportunity to talk to Kevin and actually learn something.

Being in the hospital brought back bad memories to Patrick.

There weren’t a lot of things that Patrick truly, truly hated. That he absolutely despised and refused to have anything to do with. But hospitals were one of them. From the moment he was born, it seemed that every doctor in the goddamn country wanted their hands on the miracle baby. It was blood test after blood test, genetic mapping, brain scans and more. Not to mention all the studies and all the medical journal articles written based on Patrick’s abilities.

As such he’d grown up with almost a phobia of the place, it’s white walls representing the torturous treatment that he continued to receive as a child. It got to the point where his mother would have to bribe him to come inside for a routine check-up, or in extreme cases, would have to bring him in when he was sleeping.

When Patrick woke up after being brought in by Pete and Dale, all those memories came crashing back, and he panicked. “Mom?!”

Dale was the one who grabbed his hand, as Pete was out of the room. “Ricky, buddy, it’s okay, calm down.”

“Wh-What happened? Why am I here?” He questioned, before wincing at the pain coming from his upper torso. “A-Ah…”

“Stab wound.” Dale grimaced. “And you lost a lot of blood, sweetheart. They had to give you a transfusion.”

_No no no no no no no no_

“I can’t be h-here, I gotta go.” Patrick attempted to get out of the bed, but Dale gently pushed him back.

“It’s okay, just take a few deep breaths, and you’ll be fine. Pete’s just out making a few phone calls, but he’ll be back soon. So calm down, relax, and if you can remember, would you mind letting me know how on earth you showed up at my house at midnight with a stab wound?”

Patrick frowned and looked down at his hands. He probably owed her an explanation. She’d fixed him up not just once, but twice now, and actually genuinely cared about him. Patrick knew that she knew something was up, but she was always just accepting and open, without asking too many questions. When Patrick came over every afternoon to procrastinate going home, she was there with open arms and made him and Pete a variety of snacks. She made him dinner every night, and took him out with her family on the weekend.

Hell, Patrick loved her. He hadn’t had anyone who treated him like they really loved him since his Mom died.

So he opened his mouth, and began explaining the long and complex backstory that led to him showing up on her doorstep with a stab wound.

\-----------  
The doctor’s had given Pete back a pile of Patrick’s clothes, and the things that they’d found in his pockets. He didn’t have his wallet, but in the pile was his phone, and Pete was sitting outside with the device in his hands.

He’d been informed that Patrick’s parents had been called and informed that he was here, but nobody had actually showed up it, and it’d been hours since the phone call was made. Pete was worried, so, so incredibly worried, and sat with the phone in his hands as he debated what to do. On one hand, phones were a private place, and on the other hand, there was probably a number in here for Patrick’s father, and Pete could call him and ask him why the hell he wasn’t here.

Eventually he gave in and opened it, flicking through the contacts. All of them were just people from school. Brendon, Josh, Tyler, Andy, Elliot, Gerard, Nicole, Dallon, Hayley, and a bunch more from the group where they all sat. Pete’s contact had a little heart beside his name, which did make Pete feel all gooey inside, but he kept going. There wasn’t exactly a whole lot of luck, but eventually Pete found one contact that wasn’t a person from school. It was just saved as ‘Kevin’, and Pete pushed call.

He’d heard a little bit about Kevin from Patrick, and it was clear that Patrick absolutely adored his older brother. But that didn’t mean that Pete’s stomach was in knots as he sat there while it rang – he had no idea who this guy was, and didn’t he live in California?

“Pattycakes! How’s it going?” Kevin answered the phone, clearly cheerful and upbeat.

“I-Is this Kevin, um, Patrick’s brother?” Pete asked with a shaky voice.

“Who’s this? Why do you have my brother’s phone?”

“Um… my name’s Pete, I’m Patrick’s friend…”

“Oh, is he alright?”

“Not really?” Pete winced.

“What happened?!” Kevin asked, his voice clearly concerned, which proved to be a relief for Pete.

“He’s in the hospital, he’s hurt bad.” Pete explained nervously. “He, uh, he was stabbed and lost a lot of blood and they had to give him a transfusion, and he’s hurt pretty bad…”

“Shit.” Kevin exclaimed breathlessly. “He promised me this wouldn’t happen again!”

“ _Again_?” Pete echoed.

“Fuuuuuck.” Kevin muttered. “I don’t have any cash to jump on a plane to Chicago right now. Is he awake? Can I speak to him?”

“He’s still unconscious at the moment.” Pete frowned. “The doctors have said he should be fine, but you said something about this happening again?”

“So, how much has he told you?” Kevin asked.

“In regards to what?”

“In regards to his midnight adventures.”

“Um…. Not a whole lot. I know about his sleeping problem, and I know that’s why he studies at night, to fill his time, but that’s about it.”

Kevin sighed. “Right. From the way he talks about you, I would’ve thought he’d have told you more.”

“He talks about me?”

“He thinks you’re god.” Kevin explained. “You can do no wrong. He loves you.”

“Oh.”

“But anyways, so essentially, Patty’s sleeping problems, um, yeah. He got them from Mom, both Mom and him were diagnosed with it, and that’s kind of like why they were so close. They just spent a ridiculous amount of time together because they’d stay up after I went to bed. So essentially, when Mom died, Patty just kinda, um, he got left alone. He didn’t have his late night buddy any more, and it was kinda hard on him because it’s a pretty rare thing and, yeah.”

“That’s… not good.”

“Not really, no. So essentially Patrick’s gotten himself into a habit of vising Mom’s grave at ungodly hours because there’s not really a whole lot for him to do, and he just like, he gets lonely and sad late at night. So anyway, there’s this gang that also likes to hang out at the cemetery at ungodly hours because there’s not exactly a whole lot of people around, and last year Patrick witnessed a big drug deal, and because he has a stupid heart of gold, he went to the police and got them arrested.”

“Isn’t that good?”

“No, because the stupid police actually told them that the kid in yellow was the tip off, and now whenever they find him at the cemetery they beat him up to get revenge. We had a deal that he wouldn’t go in the middle of the night anymore, not after they stabbed him in the kidney, but it seems that he’s ignored me.”

“So… Patrick just misses his Mom.”

“Yeah.” Kevin breathed. “They were best friends, and it’s been a year now, but he hasn’t gotten any better. He’s a lonely kid, Pete. There’s not exactly a lot of people quite like him, and he’s never really had an opportunity to make friends. That’s why he went back to school – he told me he was starting fresh, and moving on, and I was proud of him, but he’s clearly still not coping very well.”

Pete sighed. “He doesn’t talk about this stuff, or any stuff about himself really.”

“Yeah, Patty’s pretty closed off. His whole life is on the internet, and it just stresses him out that anyone can just look him up and know anything they want to. It’s just well, led to him being pretty personal about his life. Y’know, of all the things my brother can do, I think the most amazing thing is probably his humility.”

“He doesn’t like to talk about his achievements.” Pete noted.

“Yeah, he’ll do that. He doesn’t want to be special, Pete, he just wants friends. He’s never been to a proper school before, he’s never had the chance to talk to kids his own age, really. The closest he’s ever really had to a friend would probably be me, and I hardly get to see him.”

“Yeah, about that, what the hell is up with that? He fucking _adores_ you and you don’t even come home on the holidays to see him?!”

He could practically hear Kevin frowning over the phone. “Pete, I eat instant ramen for 2 meals a day and collect change off sidewalks to pay for my busfares. I don’t exactly have a plane fare ready to go, and all my money at Christmas goes to my phone bill so I can call him. I’d live in Chicago if I had the cash, but I don’t, and the money that Mom left for me has gone to paying my tuition.”

“What about Patrick? How does he get over to see you then?”

“He studies.” Kevin sighed. “He studies because he’s a 14-year-old with a ridiculous IQ of like 240 or something, and any university jumps at the opportunity to shove scholarships at him. If he studies online at my college, then they pay his airfares to come over and do the exams. And that gives us an opportunity to see each other.”

“Oh.”

“So yeah, _that’s_ what the hell is up with that.” 

Pete frowned. “That sucks.” He paused a moment. “If your Mom left you money, does that mean that she left Patrick money too?”

“Patrick’s the richest kid I know.” Kevin responded. “He just doesn’t have access to any of it. All his money, everything he’s earned from his talents and stuff, and TV appearances and being in studies and all that, plus his inheritance, he can’t access that until he’s 18. He’s got money for when he’s older, but as much as we need it, we can’t use it right now.”

“Damn.” Pete muttered.

“Yeah.” Kevin sighed. “Look, can you get him to give me a call when he’s awake and feeling a little better? And can you keep me updated? This is my number, put it in your phone, and just text me with updates and stuff.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Pete assured. “Hey, what’s your Dad’s number? He’s not here, and I just wanted to call him and give an update.”

There was a moment of silence from the other end, before Kevin sighed again. “He hasn’t told you, has he?”

“What?”

“Dad passed away when Patrick was 10.”

\---------------------

When Pete got back from his various phone calls, Patrick was awake. Sitting up and talking with Dale with a smile on his face – that signature Sunshine smile that made Pete’s insides feel all gooey and made everything okay in the world.

They reunited with a hug, and Pete held him tight. “Never, ever do that again!”

Patrick giggled. “I won’t, I won’t, I’m sorry.”

“I was so worried!” Pete kissed him before pulling him back into the hug. “You passed out, and the ambulance, and holy shit, I was terrified!”

“Pete, you’re hurting me.” Patrick quickly pushed him off and tenderly put a hand on his neck in the hopes it would ease the pain.

“Sorry, sorry!” Pete leapt back. “Sorry, Sunshine.”

“It’s okay, it’s alright. I’m okay.” Patrick just forced another smile. “Just, stitches and stuff.”

“Yeah, about that, no more late night cemetery runs, okay?”

The room fell silent, and Patrick’s face fell. “H-How’d you-“

“Your brother says hello.” Pete passed the phone back. “I was getting a little worried when nobody showed up, and yeah.”

“D-Dad’s on a business trip.” Patrick mumbled. “It was just me in the house, he’s overseas at the moment.”

Pete knew he was lying, but he didn’t know why. Why would Patrick even need to lie about something like that? What exactly was he trying to hide? Pete had Kevin’s number now, he made a mental note to ask.

“Is he coming back soon?” Dale asked, her concern showing.

“It was a couple of weeks, I think.” Patrick explained uncertainly, trying to sit up and wincing at the pain. “I wanna go home, can I just, can we leave?”

“Not yet, Sunshine. They wanna keep you tonight and keep an eye on you. Apparently you’re well known around here, and they need to watch you.”

“I don’t want to be well known around here.” Patrick muttered. “Please, can you ask them if we can leave? I’m fine, see?”

“Ricky, sweetheart, you just had eight stitches because you showed up in the middle of the night with a stab wound. You’re not fine.” Dale explained slowly.

“I just, I don’t like hospitals. I can’t be here, I need to leave.”

“Sunshine, I’m here, I won’t leave you.” Pete took his hand. “I don’t like hospitals either, but I’m here.”

“No brain scans.” Patrick told them firmly. “No brain scans, no tests, I don’t want any of that, just let them look at me while I’m recovering from the transfusion. No blood tests or EEG’s or anything.”

“None of that.” Dale assured him.

Patrick slowly exhaled and slumped back on the bed. “Okay.”

Pete gently kissed his cheek. “I love you, Sunshine.”

“I love you too, Pete.”

\------------

When visiting hours were over, Pete and Dale headed home. They weren’t direct family members, so sadly they weren’t allowed to stay overnight. They walked to the car in silence, until they finally made it out of the hospital building.

“So, you and Patrick, huh?” Dale smiled, taking her youngest son’s hand.

“What?”

“All that kissing and hugging?” She raised an eyebrow. “Is this a thing now?”

“I-I, I guess so. We don’t have like, a label or anything, but yeah…”

She chuckled and put an arm around him. “It’s cute, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Mom.” He smiled. “Hey, so I learned a couple of things while I was talking to Kevin.”

“Patrick told me a couple of things too, while you were on the phone. I know about the cemetery visits, and the gang.”

“Yeah, that’s a bit weird.” Pete remarked. “He knows that if he goes back there, he’ll get attacked, but he goes anyway. That’s weird.”

“He just misses his mother, Pete.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Pete mumbled. “I just wish he’d do something else instead.”

“Maybe that’s something you can work out with him.” Dale swung their hands back and forth. 

“I guess. But that’s not what I’m talking about. You know when Patrick said his Dad was on a business trip?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Patrick’s Dad has been dead for four years.”

“Oh.”


	13. Pete and Patrick go public to their group of friends, and winter is a great time to go see a movie

When Patrick got out of the hospital, it was the first day of snow in Chicago for the season, and from the way that Patrick acted, you would’ve thought he’d never seen snow before in his life.

Not that Pete was there when he actually got released – his Mom had made him go to school that day, but Patrick was smiling and waiting at Pete’s car when the afternoon bell rang, signalling it was time to go home.

It had been a long stay for Patrick, who absolutely despised hospitals and everything that went along with them. Pete had been there every morning and every afternoon, that was, until he missed a week of school and the principal called his Mom, and then he had to go again. But he was still there every afternoon after the bell rang, and would stay late into the night so Patrick didn’t have to be alone.

Patrick was a literal ray of sunshine that beamed positivity upon everyone and everything, unless he was in the hospital. Then he was a literal ball of fear and insecurity who sat with his knees to his chest and prayed for this goddamn nightmare to be over. It was hard to watch, and when Pete saw his best friend/lover/ they didn’t really have a label yet standing next to his car in a puffy yellow coat and with a huge smile on his face, it was the biggest feeling of relief he’d had in a long time.

“Sunshine!” The two embraced with a hug, their noses and cheeks pink from the cold. 

“Pete!” Patrick giggled, throwing his arms around his boyfriend. “I got out!”

“I can see that!” Pete grinned. “How’s the snow, huh?”

Patrick giggled and scooped some up in his gloved yellow hands. “It’s amazing!”

“Patrick’s back!” Brendon’s voice was unmistakable from across the yard, and before they knew it, the Sunshine boy was being welcomed back into the group with cuddles from everyone. Not that he minded, he missed his friends, and Pete was just glad to see him smile.

“Wanna go get hot chocolate to celebrate?” Josh asked, lifting Patrick up onto his shoulders.

When the weather grew colder, and milkshakes were no longer on the menu, Megan fixed the group up with hot cocoa after school. It was an end-of-year tradition, and it was nice that Patrick was there too now.

Inside the café, Patrick sat next to Pete and rested his head on Pete’s shoulder. Pete just put his arm around him, partly to keep him warm. It was cold outside, and he was such a little person, he needed all the warmth he could get. Patrick just beamed up at him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, and that just made Pete go red.

“Holy shit! They just kissed!” Josh announced after witnessing it. “Since, since when are you guys a thing?”

“Since a couple of weeks ago.” Pete explaining, making eye contact with Patrick, who nodded in agreement. “Yeah, a thing.”

“So like, boyfriends?” Brendon asked, a glint of excitement in his eyes.

“We don’t really have a label. We’re just, Pete and Patrick.” Patrick shrugged.

“So… Peterick?” Nicole asked with a smile.

Pete just shrugged, and Patrick kissed him again, on the lips this time. The rest of the group cooed over them, and they both were bright red by the time they pulled apart. And it wasn’t because of the cold.

\----------

Pete had mixed emotions when he learned his father was going to be home for Christmas.

Partly he was excited – a boy is always excited when his military father will be home for the holidays. His father hadn’t been home for Christmas since Pete was 11, normally he came home only during the summer. Pete was excited, he wouldn’t have to sit around and video chat his Dad for an hour, he’d actually be in the room.

On the other hand, Pete was terrified. For starters, he hadn’t seen his Dad since before he’d gone into inpatient, and that was a terrifying thought. The time that his father had been home this summer was during the time that Pete wasn’t allowed visitors, and therefore he hadn’t actually seen his father in over a year and a half.

Then there was the fact that his father wasn’t necessarily a homophobe, but he didn’t exactly approve of it either. Pete hadn’t come out to him yet because of such, and he was starting to realise that if Patrick was gonna be over most days over the winter break like he had been so far, he was gonna have to either come out to his father or get Patrick to ‘tone it down’.

And he wasn’t exactly sure how to go about that. Pete’s father was a very conservative man, straight as a plank and wanted nothing more than the ideal traditional family. He didn’t exactly agree with Pete’s decision to pursue music, and the look that his father gave him after Pete was first diagnosed with bipolar disorder was something that still gave him nightmares. He did love his father, the man raised him, but there was always this barrier between them. Andrew had always been the favourite son.

He knew that his father wouldn’t exactly approve of Patrick, and that was just a friend. If he found out they were dating… it made Pete feel sick to his stomach to even think about it. For starters, Patrick’s style of dress would definitely get him turned away at the door, and if he did make it into the family space, his childish speech patterns that showed through occasionally would definitely earn him some glares.

It was the only thing that had been on Pete’s mind all day, and was definitely holding him back when they were given their last music assignment for the semester – writing a Christmas carol. Thankfully it was a paired assignment, and Pete and Patrick had found themselves in a practice room together, listening to some other carols for inspiration.

“You seem sad today.” Patrick noted, reaching for Pete’s hand. 

“Sad? I’m not sad.” Pete forced a smile, and put his arm around his boyfriend. “Just a bit distant. Dad’s gonna be home for Christmas.”

“Really? That’s great news!” If there was any hint of sadness in Patrick’s words, he certainly didn’t show it. “He’s in the army, right?”

“Navy.” Pete corrected. “But yeah, it’s exciting. I haven’t seen him in a really long time, and yeah.”

Patrick kissed Pete’s cheek, and giggled. “Well, that’s awesome. It’ll be good to see him, right?”

“Yeah. Hey, remember when you were in LA, and you rang me and you asked when you got back if we could go and see a movie or go out or do something?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Do you wanna go out tonight?”

“I don’t really have any allowance to spare… I wanna get Kevin a nice Christmas present…”

“I don’t want you to pay, goofball.” Pete chuckled, knocking Patrick’s hat off his head playfully. “But I just need to get my mind off things, and I wanna spend some time with you.”

Patrick dove to catch his hat, and giggled. “Okay, sounds good.”

\-------------

Pete’s favourite cinema (the one that showed the cool independent movies), was about a 45 minute drive from his home. He picked Patrick up from the school at about 5 o’clock, and off they went.

It was silent for the first little while, they both looked out at the setting sun and listened to whatever was on the radio. Eventually, Pete turned it down, and exhaled loudly, hoping Patrick would start a conversation.

“So…. Christmas is gonna be pretty fun.” Patrick offered with a smile.

“Yeah, it should be.” Pete forced a smile in return.

“You’re worried about seeing your Dad, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Pete sighed. “You’re doing that weird psycho-analysis thing again?”

“Just reading your face.” Patrick informed him. “Your eyes are darting back and forth, your lip is twitching slightly, your shoulders are rigid and your breathing is a bit jagged. That and you told me it was worrying you in music today, remember?”

“Right.” Pete nodded. “Just, so I know, if I hadn’t have told you that, could you have told me that just from my face?”

Patrick giggled. “No, silly. I can tell you’re worried about something, your body language gives that away, but that’s it.”

“You see, this is the problem with having a genius for a boyfriend.” He laughed. “I can’t keep anything from you.”

“Pssssht.” Patrick scoffed, kicking his yellow boots up onto the dash. “Face readers aren’t mind readers, y’know.”

“They’re close enough.” Pete shrugged, thinking back to his time in inpatient. It felt like everyone in there knew what he was thinking, all the time, and it was terrifying until he got used to it. It was like no thought was private, he shared everything with everyone.

“You technically do the same to me.” Patrick explained, turning the tables. “You can tell when something’s up with me, even though I don’t tell you exactly what it is all the time. You _always_ notice. And you always make me feel better.”

Pete smiled, and put his hand on Patrick’s. “Thanks, Sunshine.”

“Anytime.” Patrick giggled. “You need a nickname. I’ve been Sunshine since I met you, but you’re just Pete and that’s just your name, so you need a nickname too.”

“Well, you’re Sunshine because you’re yellow, so what am I then? A cloud?”

“A silver lining.” Patrick beamed, before giggling. “There’s gotta be something cooler than a cloud.”

“A panther?” Pete offered. “That’d be cool. Like, I sneak around, but I’m also super dark and mysterious, ya know?”

Patrick shook his head with another giggle. “You’re definitely cuter than a panther. So… maybe you could be like, a black cat? But like, a kitten. A black kitten.”

“Well, I mean, I could be, but you’re not allowed to call me Kitten.” Pete shook his head, and Patrick just fell to hysterics.

“Alright, alright, let’s see…. Um….”

“Eyeliner?” Pete offered.

“No, I think I’ve got it. You’re my glasses.”

“What?”

“The frames are back, but the lenses are clear as day. You help me see the world a little clearer, and you’re always close to me when I need you.” Patrick smiled, grabbing Pete’s hand.

Pete blushed. “Y-You’re the Sunshine. You’re warm and smiley and always there, rising in the morning and setting at night. Everyone loves you and you fill everyone with happiness and positivity.”

“Awww!” Patrick giggled. “I love you!”

“I love you too, Sunshine.”

The cinema was packed with mostly college students, and much like Pete expected, Patrick fit right in. A few of them even _recognized_ him from a course he did a few years back, Pete had to follow him around in disbelief as they took selfies with him. Patrick was used to the attention, of course, and took it all in his stride.

It seemed to Pete these days that every little thing Patrick did, made him just that little bit more remarkable.

They bought tickets and popcorn and drinks, and took their seats in cinema three. Pete wasn’t even entirely sure what movie they were actually seeing, just that Patrick had pointed at the poster and smiled, and here they were. Once inside, Patrick removed his hat to avoid annoying those behind him, and rested his head on Pete’s shoulder. Pete just beamed and held him close, sharing their body heat in this cold cinema air conditioning.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight.” Pete whispered. “It means a lot.”

“Thanks for inviting me!”

“SHHHHH!”

The two just giggled, and locked eyes. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for them to lock lips.

They didn’t end up spending a whole lot of time watching the actual movie that night. 

\---------

Pete didn’t want to go home, and Patrick didn’t exactly express a desire to go straight home either, so after the movie, Pete was just driving.

Driving in the opposite direction to buy them more time with each other. It was just them, sitting under the heater in Pete’s car, listening to the quiet radio and talking. They talked about anything and everything, for almost an hour. Then Pete found a carpark on the edge of an empty children’s playground, and the two got deep.

“I don’t want my Dad to come home for Christmas, Sunshine.” Pete exhaled. “He doesn’t know me and I don’t know him and he won’t accept you or us and this is too much all at once…”

Patrick frowned. “Slow down, explain.”

“Well, I-I, I haven’t seen him in years. Last time he visited I was in inpatient and I was r-really out of control, so I wasn’t a-allowed visitors, and it was terrifying because he’s super conservative and I know he doesn’t like having a crazy son and he doesn’t approve of me doing music, and I haven’t come out to him and it’s just really fucking stressful!”

Patrick grabbed Pete’s hand. “Hey, hey, it’s gonna be alright. You haven’t seen him in _ages_. Maybe it’ll all be different now.”

“Or m-maybe it’ll all just be the same!”

“So what if it is?” Patrick asked, remaining remarkably calm. “What he thinks about you doesn’t change who you are as a person. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re an amazing musician and the most amazing boyfriend I’ve ever had-“

Pete cut him off there. “Have you had another boyfriend?”

“Well, no, but that’s besides the point.” Patrick fought off a giggle. “His opinion doesn’t matter unless you let it matter. Even if he doesn’t approve of anything, it doesn’t change what I think of you, what your friends think of you, and what you think of yourself. And your Mom could probably talk some sense into him anyways. She’s amazing.”

Pete laughed. “She thinks the world of you, you know?”

“I think she’s the best.” Patrick smiled warmly. “Don’t waste time with her, she’s a good one. She loves you so, so much, and she’s always there for you, and me.”

“Do you miss your Mom, Sunshine?” Pete asked, uncertainly.

“I, I don’t talk about that…”

Pete took his hand, and squeezed it. “You remember when you were in the hospital and I talked to your brother?”

Patrick winced slightly, but nodded.

“Yeah. I dunno. Look, from what I’ve heard, she was pretty great, and from what I’ve heard, you miss her like all hell.” There was a moment of silence, and Pete slowly exhaled. “Just, y’know, I dunno, I live in my head too, but it can be good to talk to people. Like if you don’t wanna talk to me about it, then talk to my Mom or something. She’s pretty great with that kinda stuff, she’s a nurse.”

“I talk to Kevin about it.” Patrick mumbled, bringing his knees to his chest. “It’s just not fun. And I like to be fun. Because that’s what people like about me, that I’m happy and I’m fun. If I’m not, then they won’t really want to hang around with me anymore.”

“There’s more to you than being happy and fun, Sunshine.” Pete put an arm around him. “You’re incredibly talented, and sweet, and complex, and kind, and there’s so much more to you than that. True friends don’t leave you like that, when you’re struggling. They stick around. Like the music class did when I went into inpatient, I still have all the cards they made me. And your group of people you sit with, they love you because you make them feel special, and wanted, and loved. Like they matter. And for a lot of those kids, all they’ve gotten through high school is just shit from everyone around them. That’s why everyone likes you, Sunshine. Because you have this amazing ability to speak to someone and make them feel like they matter.”

Patrick’s cheeks flushed pink, and Pete laughed. “Seriously, you don’t have to worry about everyone ditching you if you stop being so, I don’t know, energetic all the time. People love you.

“I’m just a little new at this.” Patrick giggled.

“That’s okay. Hell, I’ve been to 12 years of school and I’m still new at it.”  
Patrick smiled and rested his head on Pete’s shoulder. “Socialising is hard.”

“Everything’s hard when you’re a teenager. You still have to ask to go to the bathroom and then they expect you to know what you want to do for the rest of your life a month later.”

“You wanna go to music school, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Pete breathed. “That’s why I was a little bit of an asshole when you joined the class at the start of the semester. Obviously now, like, you totally deserve to be there, but we all worked really hard to get there and I didn’t see the effort you put in. You know about the scholarship program for the top student at the end of the year?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. I dunno. I’ve topped the class for years, and it’s just kinda a goal of mine to get it. Dad won’t pay for me to go to music school, so it’s the best option to get in. I’m gonna need a scholarship of some kind to get it past my parents, and then I dunno, I’ll go study and then be a rockstar or something.”

“Nice.” Patrick smiled. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out then.”

“What about you, sunshine? What are you gonna do with that big brain of yours?” Pete stretched out slightly. “You can’t keep doing degrees forever.”

“I probably could.” Patrick laughed, before his face fell. “I don’t know, really. I just, there’s a lot of expectations on my shoulders and, yeah.”

“You could be a doctor?”

The look of disgust that overcame Patrick in that moment was so absurd that Pete burst out laughing. “Seriously?”

“There is honestly nothing I’d rather do less.” Patrick told him sternly. “But it seems it’s the only thing that anyone wants me to do. Like, my parents, since I was 7, they wanted me to do medicine. My brother wants me to do it. My teachers and professors, it seems everyone wants me to do it. I just… it’s hard. There was this conversation with my Dad, when I was like, 10 or something. And he told me ‘Patrick, you’re gonna cure the world of disease someday. You’re gonna go and find a lab, and breakthrough to something great’. And that’s great, but it’s terrifying, because I think, if I really wanted to, I probably could go and work on something, and I might find something or cure something or do something like that. But I don’t want to, because I don’t want to be a doctor.”

“Huh.”

“Is that selfish?” Patrick turned to Pete. “What if somewhere in me is the ability to cure cancer? What if I solved the AIDS epidemic? What if somewhere in my mind is the cure for the common cold? Is it selfish that I don’t want to go into medicine? Do I owe it back to science? Science made me, do I need to do something back for it? What if millions of people die from the common cold because I didn’t do medicine and discover the cure for it sooner?”

“Those are… big questions, Sunshine.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Patrick murmured. “It’s just something I’m struggling with at the moment.”

Pete kissed him softly. “Thank you for talking to me about it.”

“Thanks for listening, I guess.” Patrick forced a smile. “Nothing better than listening to the genius complain about being smart, right?”

“Just because your problems are different than mine doesn’t mean that they’re not real.” Pete assured him. “And hey, look, there’s no telling what would happen if you went into medicine. Maybe you’d be so uninterested and bored that you’d fall asleep and discover nothing, and you’d just be miserable. Then you’d have wasted so many years.”

“That’s true.”

“What job would make you happy, Sunshine?”

“I, um, playing music, I guess.” He responded with a slight smile. “Being creative. Creating things that bring joy to people, and myself.”

“Then that’s your answer.” Pete smiled, roaring the engine of his car to life.

Patrick had to kiss him one last time before they began the drive home.


	14. Patrick and Pete write another song together, a Christmas one this time, and Pete’s father returns home for the holidays

Pete Wentz wanted to write a punk rock Christmas carol for their last assignment, and thankfully, Patrick was on board.

He’d spent hours pouring over the lyrics, and now was sitting with Patrick in one of the practice rooms at school, trying to figure out how they were gonna record it. Pete was going to sing, well, scream, and Patrick was gonna play guitar. There was an end of year concert for all the music students, and this was their moment.

Well, it _would_ be their moment if Patrick had stopped demanding Pete re-record his vocals.

“It has to be _perfect_ , Pete.” Patrick instructed. “You gotta try and really capture the essence of the song.”

“Sunshine, we’ve done this like 8 times already.” Pete took a swig of his water. “How many times are you gonna make me record this damn song? I don’t have an endless supply of vocals, you know.”

“I know.” Patrick mumbled, sitting down at the computer and mixing a few things up, separating vocal tracks, before sighing. “Hey, listen, you’re not gonna like this, but I don’t think ‘Yule Shoot Your Eyes Out’ is a metal song.”

“What? Of course it’s a metal song. We wrote it as a metal song!”

Patrick swapped the electric guitar for an acoustic one, and sat back down. “Let me play you the chords like this, and you just listen, okay?”

Pete folded his arms. “It’s a metal song, Sunshine. It wouldn’t make sense if you played it acoustic.”

That idea was quickly shut down as Patrick began strumming, and singing the lyrics quietly under his breath. “ _These are your good years, don’t take my advice, you only wanted the nice boys anyway. And I’m of good cheer, ‘cause I’ve been checking my list. The gifts you’re receiving from me, will be…_ ”

Once again, Pete was rendered speechless. He’d been screaming the same lyrics only a few minutes prior, but that carried none of the same emotional tone that Patrick was putting into this song right now. Not to mention that he was singing. How had he not known Patrick could sing?! How come Patrick hadn’t sung anything before!? What was this madness?!

Patrick seemed to grow a little more confident as he approached the chorus. “ _One, awkward silence. Two, hopes you cry yourself to sleep, staying up waiting by the phone. All I want this year is for you to dedicate your last breath to me, before you bury yourself alive. Don’t come home for Christmas, you’re the last thing I wanna see, underneath the tree. Merry Christmas, I could care less_.”

“Holy shit, Sunshine.” Pete breathed, looking at the boy in yellow in what could only be described as awe. “You can fucking _sing_.”

“What? No, no, I can’t sing.” Patrick’s hands left the strings, and he rubbed the back of his head anxiously. “We’ll get Brendon to record or something. I just… it’s an emotional song, and I don’t think that metal really captures the mood that you’re trying to convey with the lyrics.”

“You can sing.” Pete repeated. “You need to record the song! Screw Brendon, you’re fucking _brilliant_ , Sunshine!”

Patrick winced slightly and looked down the guitar on his lap. “I don’t want to sing, I’m not good at singing. There’s heaps of good singers in this class, but I’m not one of them.”

“Yes, you are!” Pete told him with a grin. “And you did the song so well! Oh my god! I mean, the lyrics, and then the vocal hooks, and just, yes! You need to record it.”

“I’m not, I’m not singing it at the concert. I don’t want to be centre stage. That’s not my spot.”

“But it is, Sunshine! Centre stage is for the singers, the music geniuses, the ones who have the ability to strike emotions into the heart of listeners. And that’s you.”

Patrick sighed and strummed the guitar, which was starting to become a nervous tic of his. “I’m really not that good, Pete…”

“Yes, you really are!” Pete took the guitar away and kissed him. “You’re amazing. At everything. Including singing. You need to record this. Please? Just, record it, and if you still absolutely hate it, then we’ll see, but please!”

Patrick sighed, and nodded. “I’ll do it for you, Pete.”

Pete wrapped him in a hug. “Thank you, Sunshine.”

\-----------

It was a Friday night, and Pete had opted not to be at Brendon’s shindig tonight. He wanted to be there more than anything right now, but unfortunately for him, his father was going to be home in less that 24 hours and he helping his Mom get the house into perfect shape.

Patrick was over, helping out as well, mostly because he relied on Pete for a ride to Brendon’s house, and considering that Pete couldn’t go, he was just finding something else to do with his time. So the two were sitting in Pete’s bedroom, going through every drawer and every shelf, and giving Pete’s room the deepest clean it had had in a very long time.

“How can one room acquire this much dust?” Patrick asked with a giggle, going through the bookshelf. “And how do you have so many poetry books?”

“You collect yellow things, I collect poetry books.” Pete responded with a smile. “They’re my babies. By the way, if you damage any of them, this relationship is over.”

Patrick laughed, but nodded. “I’ll treat them right, don’t worry.”

“Good.” Pete responded, pulling his bedsheets off to wash them.

“So, do you have to do this every time your Dad comes home?” Patrick asked after a while, dusting the blinds above the desk.

“Um… well, Mom just likes the house to look nice for him when he comes home. He’s not home a whole lot, so it’s always a big deal when he’s here, and she just likes everything to be organised so we can just spend time with him and not cleaning and doing chores or whatever. And that’s a bit stupid, because when he is home he usually just goes on a fishing trip with Kevin, but I dunno. It’s just a thing we’ve always done.”

“Well, I can say, If I was only allowed to come home once a year, I wouldn’t really like to come home to mess.” Patrick admitted.

“Yeah, I guess. But you’re a tidy person, and I’m like, really not.”

Patrick held the filthy duster up. “I can tell.”

“Oh, shut up.” Pete swatted it away playfully. “But seriously, can we talk about, um, how we’re gonna act while he’s here?”

“Oh, yeah, have you decided anything yet?”

“Not yet… I’m gonna wait until after tomorrow night before I decide whether I’m gonna come out or not. But we’re gonna need to act like, best friends or something during dinner tomorrow night.”

Patrick was over at the Wentz house every night for dinner these days, and Dale had assured him he was still welcome to come as often as he liked over the Christmas period. And Patrick had accepted, because the Wentz household had quickly become his favourite place of all time to be. He had this boyfriend, two best friends of Hillary and Andrew who loved spending time with him, and Dale was always there for him when he needed an adult. 

He felt accepted here, and _loved_ , and that was something he didn’t get a whole lot of at home. So when she offered, Patrick jumped at the chance.

“I can do best friends.” Patrick assured with a smile.

“Awesome.” Pete smiled, before gulping nervously. “And um… I gonna need you to um… tone this down.” He gestured to Patrick’s yellow outfit.

“Tone it down?” Patrick responded, as if it were the most absurd thing he’d ever heard in his life.

“Yeah. Look, my Dad’s um… very _conservative_ , and I can’t exactly guarantee that he won’t turn you away at the door if you show up as you are right now.”

“I can’t exactly _tone down_ who I am, Pete.” Patrick thought about it, sitting down on the desk chair.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love you exactly as you are. But I want you here tomorrow night, and if that’s gonna happen, you might need to wear another colour.”

“I don’t own anything a different colour.”

“I had a feeling that was the case…” Pete mumbled, handing Patrick a bag of clothes that he’d dug out from the garage earlier. “Here.”

Patrick took one look at the navy blue shirt and wrinkled his nose up in disapproval. “I dunno… I don’t do blue.”

“C’mon, just for one night. You can go back to yellow on Monday, I promise.” Pete pleaded. “Or, even if you just slow down the yellow a little. You know that I love you, please?”

“What would you consider as toning down the yellow?” Patrick asked.

“Um… you know that yellow and green check shirt I see you wear sometimes?”

“Yeah, I know the one.”

“Yeah, that one. With blue jeans. Do you own any shoes that aren’t yellow?”

“Nope.”

“Alright… then that with the yellow sneakers and no hat.”

“I’m not wearing no hat.” Patrick told him sternly.

“Alright, then the grey one with the yellow band around it. I think, I think that might acceptable.”

“Won’t I be cold though?” Patrick asked, raising a valid point.

“I’ll turn the thermostat up.” Pete assured him. 

Patrick sat in silence for a moment, considering. “And it’s just for one night?”

“Just one dinner, that’s all. After that you can wear whatever you want.”

“Only because I love you.” Patrick mumbled. “And only for one night. If your Dad doesn’t want me here as the real me after that, then I just, I don’t know. I don’t like being something I’m not.”

Pete kissed him. “If Dad doesn’t want you here after one night, then we won’t hang out here. I don’t know, we’ll hang at yours or something. But it should be okay, Mom should talk some sense into him, but yeah. Thank you.”

Patrick forced a smile, clearly uneasy about the whole situation. “it’s okay, let’s just get this room finished.”

\------------

Dale had brought her three children to the airport to pick up their father, with the handmade signs that they’d been using since they were all in elementary school. Kevin would hold the first one (D), Pete in the middle with (A), and Hillary beside him with the final (D). They all felt stupid still using them, but Dale had told them all it would make him feel super special when he arrived, so they went along with it.

Pete hadn’t been so thankful for his sister in a very long time. She knew how nervous he was, and took his hand while standing at the bustling terminal gate. “Hey, don’t stress about it, okay? I’ve got you.”

Pete went a little red, this was his baby sister who was comforting him, but it was incredibly comforting to know she cared. “Thanks, ‘Hill.”

“Anytime, Petey.” She beamed. “Lemme know if you and Patrick are gonna sneak out to ride off into the sunset or something. I’ll cover for you.”

“We’re not gonna ride off into the sunset.”

“Well, if you are gonna sneak out, or leave at some point, let me know and I’ll cover.” She offered.

“You’re the best, you know that?”

“I know.” She giggled.

The gate opened, and thousands of people began to flock the terminal. Hillary and Pete held hands, and held up their signs. Pete Wentz Senior eventually walked through, and smiled as soon as he saw his family with their handmade signs.

“Dad!” Andrew grinned, waving him over. “How was the flight?”

“It was good.” He locked eyes with Pete, and forced a smile, before hugging Dale tightly. “I’ve missed you guys, god.”

“We’ve missed you too Dad.” Hillary beamed, joining the hug next.

Pete didn’t get a hug, he got a firm handshake and a pat on the back, as did Andrew. But Pete did get to carry his father’s luggage out to the car, and sat in the back with his siblings as he drove the five of them home. He didn’t partake in the mindless chatter about some medical emergency on the plane where a doctor had saved some lady from an asthma attack, nor did he participate in the conversation about life on his father’s submarine. He just held his breath and focused out the window for the entire drive, still trying to compute in his head that his father was right here.

God, he couldn’t wait until Patrick showed up tonight. Only 10 hours to go.

Pete didn’t get out of family time when they all arrived home, and sat in the corner of the lounge room as they all sat together to talk. He did his best to try and speak as little as possible, but it seemed everyone else in this house was adamant that he be the centre of every conversation. Pete Senior mostly spoke to Andrew about college, but Dale was always there to jump in and try and start a conversation about Pete Junior.

“So Pete’s doing really, really well in his music program. He’s topping the class at the moment, aren’t you honey?” She sounded a little desperate, like she could see the invisible wall between them and desperately wanted to pull it down.

“Um, yeah, it’s going good.” Pete murmured. “We’ve been writing songs and stuff, and there’s a concert next Friday, and yeah, it should be good.”

“Next Friday?” Pete senior echoed.

“I’ve got tickets for all of us.” Dale informed, squeezing her husband’s hand. “Pete’s doing a performance with his friend Patrick, who’s coming for dinner tonight. He’s a lovely kid, you’ll love him.”

“We’re having guests on my first night back?” Pete senior’s tone was not a friendly one, and if Dale faltered she did her best not to show it. “That’s family night.”

“Patrick’s family too.” Hillary told him. “He’s here every night. He’s like, a brother. You can’t kick him out, Dad.”

Pete senior didn’t take too well to that, and was about to rebut her statement, when Andrew jumped in to save the conversation. “Hey, so, who wants a coffee? Pete, give me a hand, will you?”

Thank god.

Any opportunity to get out of that room was a good one, and Pete ran after his brother to the kitchen. When the kettle was boiling and gave them a sound barrier, Andrew sighed and handed his brother his emergency anxiety medication. “Dude, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m just… s-stressed.” Pete took two quickly. “He, I just…”

“I know Pete, you just gotta try and calm down, because this isn’t really helping anything. What you really need to do is sit down and have a one on one conversation with him, to clear up whatever went wrong. Otherwise you’re probably gonna pop a vein or something.”

“How do I even do that?” Pete asked rhetorically.

“Well, I mean, look, I’ll talk to him.” Andrew offered. “You never know. He might wanna chat with you too.”

“Why would he want to?” Pete grumbled. “It’s you he loves. You’re the golden boy. I’m the crazy one who’s failing in school and pursuing a stupid career.”

“Music isn’t stupid.” Andrew told him. “You just gotta make sure he knows that.”

The two made hot drinks for the family, and then delivered them. Pete spilled more than a couple of drops on the way thanks to his shaking hands, but was incredibly grateful that his father didn’t notice them when he delivered the mug.

“Thank you, Pete.” He offered another forced smile.

“I-It’s alright, um, enjoy?” God, Pete was awkward.

“You know, Petey, we need to catch up.” Pete senior put his cup down on the corner table. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in years.”

Pete wanted to tell him the truth – that he actually hadn’t seen his son in years – but kept his mouth closed and just forced a nod.

“So, tell me how it’s going. How’s your friends?”

“Yeah, they’re alright. Um… Brendon’s good, and we’ve been hanging out a bit, and well as the rest of the music class too, and yeah.”

“How many years have you known that group now?”

“10.”

“Wow. And you’re nearly ready to graduate together. That’s exciting.”

Pete could tell his father was really trying to push this conversation along, and he tried to be a little more open. “Yeah, I mean, some of them are going interstate for college and stuff, but we’ll definitely keep in touch and, yeah.”

“Well, I’m just glad you’re talking to people again.” His father forced another smile, and Pete could see the pain behind it. Last time his father had visited, Pete was in a terrible state. It was before he’d been diagnosed, and it was around the time where Pete had gone selectively mute because his social anxiety had gotten so terrible he couldn’t speak to anyone around him. And when he did actually manage to get some words out, they were harsh and cruel, and pushed away everyone who was trying to help him.

How his family didn’t give up on him then, Pete still had no idea.

“Yeah.” Pete forced a laugh. “I even managed to make a new friend. That was interesting.”

“Someone new? That’s a surprise.” Pete senior patted his son on the back. “A girl, maybe?”

“No, just Patrick. But he’s amazing, you’ll like him?” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as his father.

“Patrick.” His father repeated. “I’ve heard that name a couple of times now.”

“Yeah. He’s a freshman, but he’s um, super intelligent.” Pete tried to explain. “He’s doing senior classes and stuff.”

“Isn’t Hillary the freshman?”

“Yeah, but he’s my music partner, and my best friend, and yeah.” Pete tried to smile.

Pete senior exhaled and leaned back in his favourite sofa chair, which Pete knew to be the blood couch, but didn’t dare say anything about it. “Well, look, as long as you’re actually talking to people. You’re looking much better, son. Are you still seeing that doctor?”

“I haven’t in a while, I’m doing a much better job, of um, managing it and stuff…” 

“Well, I guess that’s good.” His father forced another smile at him. “Good chat, kiddo.”

“Y-Yeah.” Pete stammered, shaking his father’s hand. “Good chat.”

It was not a good chat, in fact it was one that made Pete’s stomach churn and his head spin. Hopefully not every conversation would be like that one, and Pete prayed to god that this three week visit would flash by in the blink of an eye.


	15. Patrick refuses to tone down who he is, and Pete’s father might just hold a powerful secret about Patrick’s past.

When the doorbell finally rang at 5pm, Pete had never been more relieved. Even though he’d asked Patrick to come at 5:30, he didn’t care at this point. He forced an apologetic smile at his father and raced to the front door.

“Hi Pete!” Patrick giggled.

“Sunshine…” Pete looked up and down his outfit. “What the hell are you wearing?”

Pete had asked him to tone it down, just a little, so his father would be a little more accepting, hopefully. Patrick hadn’t listened, obviously. Yellow high-topped boots, yellow jeans, a yellow shirt, a yellow cardigan, and his yellow hat with the glitters on it.

“I don’t tone down who I am.” He responded with a smile.

Pete didn’t exactly know how to respond. Part of him wanted to yell and scream and slam the door in Patrick’s face, but the other part of him actually really respected his boyfriend for doing this. Patrick was so confident in himself, and so comfortable with himself, that he honestly didn’t care what other people thought about him. Pete, who was wearing a conservative dark blue button-up shirt and black jeans, certainly did, and had dressed this way to impress his father.

God, he wished he had the guts that Patrick did. He just grabbed his boyfriend by the shoulder and pulled him inside. “You better hope he lets you stay.”

“Pete, it’s okay, I’m not stressed about this.” Patrick responded casually, hanging his coat up. “If he doesn’t want me here, then he doesn’t want me here. That’s fine. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.”

_But you’re my cup of tea, Patrick, and I need you to be his as well so you can be here for me right now._

“So, how’s it going?” Patrick asked. “Everything going good? Is it as awkward as you thought?”

“It… could be better, could be worse.” Pete mumbled. “I’m just glad you’re here now.”

Patrick beamed. “Well, that means it’s not the worst case scenario you imagined, is it?”

“I guess…”

“Exactly.” Patrick smiled, and went to kiss him, but Pete had to push him away.

“Best friends, remember?” He felt awful, and the feeling was visible on his face. “Just, until I figure out what to do?”

“Best friends can hold hands?” Patrick tried.

“Not to my father, they can’t.” He hung his head. “I’m sorry, Sunshine, this is, I’m sorry…”

“It’s not your fault, it’s okay.” Patrick offered another comforting smile. “I’ll try and be normal or whatever.”

“No, we’re gonna need a new plan.” Pete gestured to his outfit. “I’m gonna ask you to do something you really hate doing…”

“No….”

“I need you to try and talk about your achievements during dinner.”

Patrick shook his head. “No. No way. That’s not happening.”

“Please?” Pete tried his best to make puppy-dog eyes. “You gotta impress him, and that’s the only way I can think of doing it.”

“We’ll…. We’ll just see how dinner goes.” Patrick mumbled, burying his hands into his pockets.

“You’re the best, you know that?” Pete offered. Patrick just forced a smile in return.

The two headed into the lounge room, and Pete’s father took one look at Patrick and paled. Patrick took one look at Pete’s father and froze. Dale looked between the two of them, and took a nervous deep breath. Pete was confused.

“Patrick.” Pete senior spoke, trying to sound firm, but Pete heard the slight tremor in his voice.

“C-Commander Wentz…” Patrick stammered.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Hillary echoed.

“Its, um, it’s actually Captain Wentz now.” Pete’s father extended a hand, and Patrick shook it nervously. “How’ve you been?”

“Yeah, um, a-alright…”

“You two have met before?” Hillary asked again.

“Patrick is, Patrick is David’s son.” Pete senior explained, locking eyes with Dale, before looking back at Patrick.

_Oh fuck._

Pete didn’t know a lot about who David was as a person, or anything about him, really. What he did know was that he was serving on the same Submarine that his father was Commander of, and something really bad had happened. He remembered the day his father came home after the accident, Pete had never seen his father so sad in his life. He remembered his father sitting him down and explaining exactly what happened – they were doing emergency drills, like they did routinely, in order to make sure that no lives were ever lost onboard the submarine. They would go into this room, and it would fill with water, like it would if there was ever a hole in the actual submarine itself. The drill was to put on the life vest and open the hatch, inflating the vest and floating to the surface.

Thousands of people had done this drill. Thousands of people knew exactly how to escape a sinking submarine by opening the hatch and inflating the life vest. Pete remembered his father breaking down in tears the first time as he explained to his family that the room had filled with water and David had opened the hatch, but his vest hadn’t inflated, and he’d drowned almost instantly under the water pressure.

He remembered going to Florida for the funeral. He wasn’t invited to the actual ceremony, but he remembered his father breaking down once again. His father was meant to be in command that day, he was the one who was in charge of running the drill. Even though the vest malfunction wasn’t his fault, and it had undergone (and passed) all the tests before it had been handed to David in the first place, he was still racked with guilt.

A fellow officer had died when he was on command.

It had taken Pete’s father years to get over. Pete remembered his father after the funeral, hugging his mother and telling her that he had a wife and children who he’d left behind. He remembered his father hugging him tightly after that, making Pete a promise that he’d always come home from every deployment. Promising Pete he wouldn’t grow up without a father, like David’s children would.

Pete looked at his boyfriend, then up at his father, and took a nervous deep breath. He had stressed about them forming a relationship to begin with, but now he had to worry about trying to save the relationship that they seemingly already had.

“H-How’s the team?” Patrick asked nervously, pushing for conversation to hide the awkwardness.

“They’re good, they’re good.” Pete senior responded quickly. “How’s your Mom going?”

Silence fell over the room, and Patrick gulped nervously, looking down at his feet. “Um…. Mom passed away last year.”

“O-Oh.” Pete Senior stammered nervously, the discomfort visible on his face. “I’m so sorry.”

“I-It’s okay.” Patrick mumbled.

Dale was the one who swept in and saved the conversation. “Pete, honey, didn’t you and Patrick say you had something to do for your music assignment?”

“I, um, yeah.” Pete grabbed Patrick’s hand, and pulled him out of the room quickly. Patrick didn’t fight against him, and seemed relieved to be out of there as much as Pete was.

They were finally alone, and Pete closed his bedroom door. Patrick sat quietly on the edge of Pete’s bed and took a few deep breaths, looking at his lap. Pete, on the other hand, paced around nervously and began firing questions at him.

“So you’re David’s kid. Ho-ly shit, Sunshine.”

“Did you know him?” Patrick mumbled, not looking up.

“No, I didn’t, but I know what happened.” Pete ran a hand through his hair. “Your Dad’s on a business trip. Huh?”

“I’m not getting into a discussion about that right now.” Patrick hissed at him, putting his arms around himself. “There’s bigger things I’m freaking out about.”

“I can’t believe you know my father. Well, at least he’s not gonna kick you out now.” Pete paced around his bedroom. “I can’t believe that he knows you. What the hell is going on with that? Small fuckin’ world, I’ll tell you that.”

Patrick sniffled slightly, and Pete sighed. “Are you okay, Sunshine? Do you wanna go somewhere? We don’t have to stay for dinner or anything. We’ll go get a burger and a milkshake or something. I don’t necessarily want to hang around here either.”

“I-I’m fine.” Patrick told him, despite the fact that he was obviously not fine. “It’s, um… t-this just brings back some unpleasant memories, t-that’s all.”

Pete sat down beside him and put an arm around his boyfriend. “Do you wanna leave? I don’t mind.”

Patrick shook his head and furiously wiped his face, before forcing another smile. “I-I’m fine, Pete. I can have dinner here.”

“If you’re sure. If you wanna leave at any time though, just let me know. It’s no problem, we can take the car and stuff, and yeah. Off we go.”

“You’re the best, you know that?” Patrick smiled up at him.

Pete just gently kissed his cheek.

\---------

Dale had made an absolute feast for dinner, but the smell of the delicious food didn’t alleviate the awkwardness surrounding the Wentz family that mealtime. Pete senior sat at the head of the table, with his wife to his left and his eldest son to his right. Hillary sat next to her mother, Pete sat next to his brother, and Patrick sat down the other end of the table, holding Pete’s hand underneath it.

The only way Pete knew he was nervous was the tight grip from under the table. Other than that, he was relaxed, smiling and seemingly very happy. Just, normal, happy, sunny Patrick.

“The food smells amazing, Mom.” Andrew complimented.

“Thank you, Dale.” Pete senior smiled at her warmly.

“Well, don’t just sit around looking at it, dig in!” She chuckled.

Pete used the food as an opportunity to remain quiet, and it seemed most other family members had the same idea. For at least 5 minutes, the only sound was the clinking of cutlery against plates and chewing sounds.

“So, Patrick, how’s Andrew going, with everything?” Pete Senior asked after a while.

“Oh, he’s good.” Patrick smiled brighter, but his grip on Pete’s hand only got tighter. “He’s in California now, studying and stuff. He’s got a girlfriend and yeah, it’s all pretty good on his end.”

“That’s good to hear.” Pete Senior’s forced smile returned. “And how are you going? Last time I saw you…. You were doing your engineering degree, right?”  
“How old was I?” Patrick thought about it for a moment. “Ten. Yeah, engineering at that point. I finished that one up, um, I did a couple of other degrees, but I guess I’m just taking a bit of a gap year at the moment. Going back to high school and all.”

“A gap year.” Pete senior chuckled at the prospect. “High school is treating you well second time round?”

He nodded. “I’ve made lots of friends, and Pete and I have been doing music together, and yeah, it’s been pretty good.”

“Ah, yes, music.” Pete senior nodded and took another bite of his food. “I never thought you’d do music. You were such a talented sportsperson.”

Patrick nodded uncertainly and the grip on Pete’s hand got even tighter. “I, um, I guess I was good at sports but I never really loved it? I’m really passionate about music, it’s amazing to um, create stuff like that and share it.”

“Have you ever considered going into medicine?” Pete’s father asked. “There’s lots of money in being a doctor. You could even get a job in the military, travelling and treating soldiers and all.”

Patrick just gave tight-lipped nod, and went back to his food. 

\---------

Pete had told his parents he was dropping Patrick home after dinner, but neither Pete nor Patrick had any intention of it being a quick drop off. Instead, they just drove around town, buying time with each other, away from Pete’s father.

“I’m not going into the military.” Patrick mumbled. “He should realise that.”

“Yeah, I mean, he should. I don’t get why he was pushing that on you. That was stupid.” Pete agreed. “Hey, I’m sorry about dinner, I’m sure it’ll all get sorted out soon enough.”

“I don’t know him that well. I spent a bit of time with him at the funeral and stuff, and Mom talked to him for a while for support, but we never spent time with him or anything.” Patrick explained. “It’s just weird.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” Pete took his hand. “Mom should sort everything out with him. He just, he blamed himself for what happened to your Dad for a really long time, and it just, he’s had a bit of a rough time.”

“Well, I can’t say it’s been great for me either.” Patrick muttered.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” Pete apologised. This wasn’t exactly an ideal situation, it felt like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. “We’ll just, we won’t hang out at my place.”

“It’s fine Pete, I’m fine with it.” Patrick told him. “From all the interactions I’ve had with him, he’s a good guy. I just, I don’t want to talk about myself, and I don’t want to talk about my parents, and I don’t want to talk about joining the military. Is that fair?”

“Totally.” Pete nodded. “I’ll pass it on. Wanna go get a milkshake?”

“That sounds amazing.” Patrick admitted.

“Awesome.”

It was empty in the diner, except for Meagan and the other waitress. Pete and Patrick took their seats at a booth, and Pete just smiled at her. “Two chocolate milkshakes, please.”  
“Coming right up.” She smiled, grabbing two glasses. “What brings you two here at…. 10pm?”

“My Dad’s visiting.” Pete mumbled. “We needed to get out of the house.”

“Ah, yes. Understandable.” She nodded. “And you, Sunshine?”

“Just being with Pete.” He smiled, taking his boyfriend’s hand. “And I’m here for the milkshake.”

Meagan laughed. “Of course.”

Patrick just smiled at her, and rested his head on Pete’s shoulder. Meagan went to make their drinks, giving them a moment of privacy.

Pete gently kissed the top of Patrick’s head and put an arm around him. “I know being super private is your thing, Sunshine, but if you ever need to share what’s going on inside that head of yours, I’m here for you.”

“I know.” Patrick snuggled up close to him. “You’re the best.”

“I think you’re the best, actually.”

Patrick giggled. “Thank you for taking me here. This is nice.”

“It’s okay, Sunshine. I didn’t exactly want to hang around home myself.”

“Understandable.”

Pete just kissed him. “What do you want to do tomorrow?”

“Hmm?”

“Well, I mean, normally on a Sunday we hang out at my place, but yeah. Do you want me to pick you up? We can go anywhere.” Pete offered. “Just as long as we’re back for dinner.”

“Am I not allowed to come over anymore?” Patrick sounded nervous at that.

“No, no, of course you are.” Pete assured him. “I just, I figured you might not want to if my Dad’s there.”

“It doesn’t really matter if he’s there.” Patrick looked down at his lap. “It shouldn’t even be weird. He was a friend of my Dad’s, isn’t that a good thing? And besides, I want to see your Mom and your sister and your brother, and my guitar is still at your place, and we need to work on our song, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Pete nodded. “Okay, so you’ll just come over then.”

“Yeah.” Patrick nodded. “Have you decided if you’re gonna come out to him yet?”

“I don’t know.” Pete ran his hand through his hair. “Should I?”

“That’s up to you.” Patrick told him. “But if you’re going to, I’ll be there for you all the way. I love you.”

“I love you too, Sunshine.”


	16. Patrick gets himself into a little bit of trouble and Pete tries to make amends with his father.

When Pete got home, it was past midnight. Hillary, Andrew and Dale had already gone to bed, but Pete senior was still awake, waiting for his son to arrive home.

Pete was mostly surprised to see his father still awake, especially considering that in all other visits, mostly he just slept. It was just his father’s thing – he didn’t exactly get a whole lot of sleep on the submarine, and when he came home, it was one of his favourite things to do.

“Um… hey Dad.” Pete murmured, pouring himself a glass of water from the fridge. “You’re still awake.”

“Yeah.” Pete senior breathed. “Your mother asked me to have a talk to you, and well, it’s been a while.”

“Sounds like Mom.” Pete forced a smile. “Do you want some water?”

“I’m alright, thanks. C’mon, let’s go for a walk.”

“It’s 1am, Dad.”

“Yeah, but I can’t think when I’m standing still. Let’s go for a walk.”

They went for a walk. It was dark outside, but they kept to the empty roads, the streetlights illuminating their path. For the first 5 minutes, they both walked in silence. Pete kept his head down, mostly thinking about why on earth his father wanted to speak at 1am, and why on earth he needed to do it while walking around town at 1am. This wasn’t exactly a normal time for people to have quality father-son discussions.

“So.” Pete senior broke the silence between him. “How’s school?”

“School’s good?” Pete offered uncertainly. “How honest do you want me to be?”

Pete senior laughed, which was slightly relieving to his son. “Tell me the truth.”

“Well, music is great.” Pete smiled slightly as he thought of it. “My teacher, he’s pretty awesome, and I’m at the top of class, which puts me at a good spot to get into some pretty good music schools once we graduate. The rest of the classes, well, I mean, I’m not a star. I’m passing all of them, but barely in math. I was actually failing until Patrick started tutoring me and stuff. But yeah, my teachers all say I’m gonna graduate, which is actually pretty good considering I was away for two months…”

“Ah, yes.” Pete senior looked down at his feet, uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. It wasn’t something he ever wanted to talk about with his son, but it seemed to be the only one that actually needed to be had. “So you’re, better then.”

“Better, yeah.” Pete clenched his fist nervously. “I mean, yeah. I went pretty psycho for a while. I’m assuming Mom told you about my runaway attempt?”

Oh god, the runaway attempt.

“Yeah, she told me.” Pete senior responded. He wanted so badly to leave it at that, but he knew he couldn’t. “But I don’t really know a whole lot about it. Do you wanna tell me what happened?”

“Not really?”

“ _Pete._ ”

Pete sighed and clenched his fist a couple of times. “Look, to be honest, I don’t remember a whole lot about it. I, um, I got scared. I remember, I think I thought someone was gonna hurt me? I don’t know, I was a mess at the time. I think I got on a bus after that? I’m not sure where I went, but they found me in Arkansas 4 days later when I tried to overdose on aspirin.”

“You don’t remember anything else?”

Pete shook his head. “Mom wouldn’t tell me what happened, so I’m guessing I did some pretty dark stuff, but I honestly have no idea. It’s just a big blank in my memory.”

“Far out, Pete…” Pete senior muttered. “So you don’t remember being arrested?”

“I was arrested?!”

“Public urination.”

“Oh, fuck…” Pete thought about that for a moment. “That’s, that’s awful. Where?”

“Iowa.”

“Fucking hell.” Pete muttered, this being news to him. He knew he’d gone pretty off the rails, but that was something else entirely.

“Your Mom bailed you out, and took you home, but you snuck out that night. Then it was three days later you were found in Arkansas.”

Pete was silent, and buried his hands into his jacket pockets. “She never told me that, and I don’t remember that happening.”

“I think she just knew you’d be embarrassed.” Pete senior forced a laugh. “We both knew you wouldn’t do something like that of your own violation. You’re not a public urinator.”

“Yeah…”

“You definitely think the hospital stay helped you out?”

“Yeah, it was hard at first.” Pete thought about his first month, and shuddered. “But it got easier, and yeah, I got a lot better. It was kinda like prison, well, at least I think what prison is like. But then I got better, so yeah.”

“You’re looking really good, at the moment. Well, at least in comparison to when I last saw you.” Pete senior ran a hand through his hair. “You know I don’t get all this stuff like your Mom does. I mean, I’ve seen heaps of my naval friends struggle with ghosts, but, you’re so young…”

“I don’t have PTSD, Dad.”

“I know, I know.” Pete senior defended, embarrassed. “I just, I don’t know. Did I do this to you? I mean, I know I haven’t been around a whole lot, but I was there when you were really young, and I don’t know. Was it my parenting?”

“No, Dad. No, no, it wasn’t you.” Pete assured him. “It’s, it’s nobodies fault. I guess I was just born with it, and it took 16 years to come out. It wasn’t you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Pete breathed. “I’m sure.”

“Okay, good.” Pete senior returned to silence for a few minutes. “I’m going out to see a couple of military friends tomorrow, so you can have the house, and all. Your Mom said you’d been having friends over recently, and well, yeah. Don’t let me get in the way of that.”

“It’s just Patrick, Dad. We just do music assignments and stuff.” Pete chuckled. “But thanks.”

“How is Patrick going, anyway?” Pete senior’s discomfort was obvious, but it was also obvious that he showed genuine concern. “I haven’t exactly been there for that family like I promised I would be…”

“Yeah, I got that yesterday when you asked him how his Mom was.” Pete frowned. “But he’s okay. A little weird at times, but honestly, he’s just a really happy little dude. He’s really popular at school and stuff, and that’s with everyone, not just the other freshman and stuff. He’s doing his architecture degree at the moment?”

“Well, I guess that’s good.” Pete senior murmured. “Where’s he living at the moment?”

“Um…. I can’t exactly say I know.”

Pete senior gave his son a look, and Pete frowned. “He’s the most private person I’ve ever met. He didn’t even tell me his father had died until you did the whole thing yesterday.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Pete muttered. “Also, that thing about telling him to be a military doctor? Yeah, shut that down. His father was in the military and look what happened to him. Plus, Patrick doesn’t want to be a doctor. So drop it.”

Pete senior was taken aback a little bit, his son hadn’t ever spoken to him like that before. “Okay. That’s understandable.”

“Yeah.” Pete murmured. 

“He could be a doctor if he wanted to, though.”

“He doesn’t _want_ to be a doctor, Dad.”

“I know, I know.” Pete senior sighed.

They walked in silence for a while longer. It was starting to snow now, but they were far from home and neither of them started a conversation about heading back. Pete wondered how long they’d end up walking, and if they’d even make it home before sunrise.

“I promised them, you know?” Pete senior broke the silence eventually. “I promised them, if they ever needed anything I was just a phone call away. I owed it to David. He didn’t deserve what he got. His family didn’t deserve what they got. _Patrick_ didn’t deserve what he got. And then his Mom, too, oh god…”

“Dad, he’s okay. He doesn’t blame anyone for what happened, and he’s doing well at school and stuff, and he’s okay. You don’t need to worry about him.”

Pete senior clenched his hands together. “I broke my promise, Pete. I haven’t been there. I blocked Patricia’s calls those first two years because I just, I just couldn’t face her. I could’ve done something, I could’ve _saved_ him, Pete!”

“Dad, you tested the vest and it passed all the checks. There was nothing you could’ve done.” Pete murmured, feeling a little uncomfortable.

“There could’ve been _something_.”

“There wasn’t.”

Pete senior sighed and hung his head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be putting this conversation on you. You have bigger things to worry about. Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Pete assured him. “Hey, did you know Patrick when David was still alive?”

“I met him a few times as a kid.” Pete senior nodded. “He never outgrew his yellow phase, huh?”

“No, I guess not.” Pete chuckled softly.

“He was always great. Polite, did as everyone asked, and mostly just wanted to make people happy. He used to play a lot of sports. I went to one of his soccer games once, and it was pretty impressive. He didn’t go to school, he had a college professor who tutored him and stuff, and he was being studied a lot so it only made sense he didn’t go. David loved his kid, but he was always stressed about how unhappy he was.”

“Studied?”

“Yeah, he hasn’t told you?”

“Told me what?”

“Patricia and David were having a lot of trouble conceiving.” Pete senior explained. “The military was running an experiment on gene modification and the impact it had on intelligence. Obviously, they were skeptical, but they wanted another baby so badly, especially after what happened to Megan…”

“Megan? Who’s Megan?”

“Megan was the second Stump child. She um, sudden infant death syndrome.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Pete senior sighed. “But yeah, they were just, desperate. And grieving. So, it was 100 military families who were offered the trial, and 99 children were either stillborn or born with significant disabilities. Patrick, well, he was the 1%.”

“So that’s why he’s a super genius or whatever?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Pete senior explained. “The military studied him so much when he was a kid, and David was always stressed because he hated it so, so much. Eventually when David passed away, Patricia managed to convince them to leave her son alone, and he went off-grid. I never really heard more about it.”

Pete couldn’t help about all those times that he called his boyfriend a genius, or a superhero, or anything like that, and how quickly Patrick was to quickly shut those ideas down. He never wanted those labels, he just wanted to be seen as the same as everyone else. It was starting to make sense now, he’d been born with those labels and had been forced to grow up knowing that he was different, by no fault of his own.

He didn’t want to be a part of the Olympiad, or part of the world championship teams, or anything like that. Because he didn’t want the intelligence he’d been given. He just wanted to be normal, but he’d never get that chance.

“We should go home. It’s late.” Pete senior murmured.

Pete clenched his hands inside his pockets when he nodded. “Hey, Dad, um, can I tell you something?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I, um… I’m gay.”

Silence for a few minutes, and Pete felt that awful feeling return to his stomach as his father computed what he’d just told him.

“Thanks for telling me, I guess?” Pete senior forced an awkward laugh. “Um… how am I meant to respond?”

“I d-don’t know, um… just, you’re not mad?” Pete stammered.

“No, no, of course I’m not mad.” He chuckled. “It’s 2018. Um, that was very brave of you? I don’t know, what do you want me to say?”

“You’ve already said everything you need to.” Pete smiled. “Thank you.”

“That’s alright. Hey, thanks for walking around with me. Now your Mom can sleep at night.”

Pete chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so.”

\---------------

Patrick didn’t come over on Sunday.

Pete expected the doorbell to ring at 9am exactly, but it didn’t. It didn’t ring at any time after that, either. It just didn’t ring, all day, and Pete was confused.  
Patrick hadn’t not come over in months. It was just his thing. He was always here, without fail, at 9am every weekend morning.

When it got to 11am, he sent Patrick a text. He hadn’t sent Patrick a text, in well, ever. Patrick always preferred actual phone calls, but he was always the one to intiate them, so Pete had always just gone along with it. Other than that, he was always just here, so there was no need to text him. This was weird.

_Pete: Hey, r u coming over today?_

It was only a few seconds until he got a response.

_Patrick: Sick._

Pete frowned. He toyed around with a couple of responses, but decided to pry a little deeper.

_Pete: Cough-sniffle sick, stomach sick or head sick?_

_Patrick: All 3._

Damn. Pete looked at his screen. That didn’t sound good.

_Pete: :( Do you need a doctor or something?_

_Patrick: No._

_Pete: I know you don’t like hospitals, sunshine, but if you’re sick, you’re gonna need some meds._

_Patrick: No, Pete._

Pete frowned.

_Pete: Do you want me to bring you some chicken soup or something? I miss you._

He waited for a response, then waited a little longer. Nothing. He checked back every minute, seemingly, but there were no new messages. After about half an hour, Pete got worried, and called him.

When Patrick didn’t answer, Pete only got more worried.

_Pete: Is this about my Dad? We don’t have to hang here, we can drive around or something, or we can do anything really._

Again, no response. Pete’s concerns only grew. He hoped Patrick was okay, he was fine last night. And if Pete could be honest, he was getting a little lonely in his bedroom without his sunshine here.

At least he’d see Patrick at school tomorrow. Then everything would be fine.

\----------

Patrick wasn’t at school on Monday.

Music was lonely. Pete tried to work a little more on ‘Yule Shoot your Eyes Out’, but he couldn’t bring himself to make any major changes without Patrick. It wasn’t his song, it was their song. So he just sat around and listened to Brendon and Dallon practice ‘Feels like Christmas’ 20,000 times.

“Where’s Sunshine today?” Brendon asked mindlessly.

“Sick, I think.” Pete sighed. “He was sick yesterday and didn’t come over, and I’m worried about him.”

Dallon frowned. “Well, if you do speak to him, let him know I hope he feels better soon.”

“I hope so too, Dal.”

\-------

Pete had been texting Patrick almost hourly since Sunday. It was Wednesday now, and he was still yet to get a response.

He’d tried everything. He’d texted Patrick asking about his illness and if he was feeling better, no response. He texted Patrick telling him about funny things that had happened at school that day, no response. Hell, he even texted Patrick a picture of a calculus problem and asked if he could give him a hand with it. Still no response.

The whole family seemed to notice his absence. Pete came home alone after school, no sunshine at his side. He sat alone in his bedroom, trying to find something to do with himself that he could do by himself. Even Patrick’s chair at the dinner table went unused, and it was weird to look over and see it empty.

“Have you heard anything from him today?” Dale asked quietly at dinner.

Pete shook his head. “He hasn’t been responding to my messages.”

“Will he be back for the concert on Friday night?” Hillary asked.

Pete shrugged nervously. “I hope so.”

In true Patrick fashion, the only contact Pete got was at an ungodly hour of the night, 11:56pm on Wednesday to be exact. His phone started ringing from an unknown number, and Pete scrambled to answer it. “Sunshine?”

“P-Pete! I-I-I!” Patrick answered the phone in tears, and broke off into sobs after managing to get those two words out.

“Sunshine?! Sunshine, what’s going on?” Pete sprung to his feet. “Buddy, is everything okay?”

“I-I-I- did s-something so b-bad!” Patrick sobbed. “I-I’m sorry! I-I’m so sorry!”

“Sorry? Sunshine, buddy, take a deep breath, please, just tell me what’s going on!”

“I-I g-got, I-I’ve been…”

“It’s okay Sunshine, please.” Pete pleaded.

“A-Arrested.” He managed to choke out.

“Arrested?” Pete was more surprised than anything. “How the fuck did you get _arrested_? You’re a fucking saint, dude.”

Patrick just started sobbing again, and Pete felt bad. “Sorry, sorry, hey, what station are you at? I’ll come and get you.”

“N-Need an a-adult.” Patrick cried. “I w-was g-gonna call y-your Mom b-but, b-but I, I j-just c-couldn’t a-and!”

“That’s okay, Mom and I will be there soon. Are you at central?” Pete tried to soothe.

“Y-yeah.”

“Okay, buddy, we’ll be there soon. Just, deep breaths, and don’t talk to anyone, alright? It’ll all be fine.”

Oh, how Patrick wished he could believe him.


	17. Pete senior is good at getting charges dropped, and Patrick doesn’t want to see a doctor.

There was something strange to be said about little tiny Patrick Stump, dressed head to toe in yellow, sitting in a prison cell at Chicago central police station.

Pete had run in and woken his mother up (which woke his father up as well), dramatically explained the phone call he’d just received, and now the three of them stood on the outside of the holding cell as the officer opened the door. “Alright, Stump, c’mon, your boyfriend and his family’s here for you.”

Patrick was crying, actually sobbing was probably a better word for it, and as soon as the gate was opened, ran straight to Pete’s arms. Pete hugged him tightly, part confused and part concerned. “Hey, Sunshine… it’s okay, we’re here now.”

“What on earth happened?” Dale asked the officer, in shock herself.

“Picked him up for shoplifting.” He responded nonchalantly. “Stole from the supermarket and the pharmacy. Total value was about 50 bucks, but the grocer didn’t want us to let him off with a warning.”

“I-I’m sorry, I-I’m s-sorry!” Patrick cried out, burying his face in Pete’s chest. Pete just stroked his hair and tried to soothe him. He’d never seen his boyfriend this upset before, and it wasn’t exactly a lovely sight.

“We’ll have a talk to him and then we’ll discuss the bail.” Pete senior growled.

They sat in one of the interrogation rooms, Patrick and Dale sitting at the table and Pete and Pete senior standing (there were only two chairs). Patrick just rested his head in his hands in embarrassment, and just wouldn’t stop apologizing for whatever the hell happened.

“Ricky, sweetheart, it’s okay. We just need to talk about what exactly happened and we’ll try to get out of these charges, okay?” Dale took his hand. “I know this is a little scary, but you gotta try and take a deep breath for me and calm down.”

“I-I-I…” Patrick rubbed his face in embarrassment and couldn’t make eye contact with Dale. “C-Clarence is o-on a business t-trip and I w-was sick a-and normally h-he leaves me s-some money for g-groceries but he f-forgot this t-time and i-it had been 3 d-days a-and, a-and I was j-just!” He broke down in sobs again.

Dale furrowed her brows in confusion, but gently rubbed Patrick’s back soothingly. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Slow down a little, who’s Clarence?”

“S-Stepdad…”

“Okay, so that’s who you’re living with at the moment?”

Patrick sniffled and nodded.

“Alright. He’s on a business trip, you said? So you’ve been alone at home?”

Patrick nodded again. “H-He goes away a l-lot for work, b-but I can t-take care of myself m-most of the time so it’s o-okay. He a-always leaves me s-some money f-for food and bus fares a-and stuff, but h-he forgot this time…”

She frowned. “When did Clarence go away, sweetheart?”

“3 w-weeks ago?” Patrick winced slightly.

“Oh.”

Patrick sniffled and looked down at the table.

“Sweetheart, if you don’t have money for food, you don’t have to steal it.” Dale told him gently. “You know we love having you over.”

“I-I got s-sick.” He mumbled, running a hand through his hair. “I c-couldn’t get out of b-bed for two d-days. I w-was gonna come, b-but I didn’t think I c-could walk it, a-and it had b-been three days, a-and t-the store w-was closer, a-and, I just…”

Dale gently placed a hand on his forehead, before wincing. “Oh, god, Ricky, you’re _really_ sick. That’s not a low fever.”

“I-I-, I just n-needed some m-medicine!” He cried. “I d-didn’t w-wanna steal a-anything, a-and I didn’t w-wanna hurt anyone!”

Patrick sobbed a while, and Dale just gently rubbed his back for a few minutes, before coming to a realisation. “Ricky, sweetheart, what did you mean when you said it had been 3 days?”

Patrick winced and looked down at his fingers. “U-Um…”

Dale’s eyes widened. “Honey, when was the last time you _ate_?”

“T-three days ago?” He whispered hesitantly.

“Oh, Patrick…” She pulled him into a hug. “And they haven’t given you anything since you got here?”

He shook his head.

“We’ll get this stupid thing sorted out and then we’ll go and get some food, okay sweetheart?” She told him. “And we’ll get you some medicine.”

“I d-don’t w-wanna g-go to jail!”

“You’re not going to jail, Ricky. Not on a shoplifting charge. Worst comes to worst, it’s a fine, but that’s nothing to worry about. Now, have any of the officers questioned you over what happened?”

Patrick shook his head. “I w-was crying t-too much…”

“Okay, well, that’s good then… Well, not exactly good, but I’m glad they haven’t questioned you. How’d you get caught?”

“S-Security cameras.” Patrick mumbled. “I d-didn’t see them, but they g-got me taking the t-throat lozenges. The p-pharmacy guys were o-okay, they aren’t p-pressing charges, b-but the grocer, who d-didn’t even catch m-me, got a-angry and is.”

“I’ll talk to him.” Pete senior broke his silence, before quickly leaving the room.

They sat mostly in silence for a while, Patrick just crying and apologising, and Dale just assuring him that it was okay and everything was going to work out.   
Eventually, Pete senior walked back in a half hour later. “Alright, c’mon, I got the charges dropped, let’s go home.”

“Seriously?” Pete asked. “That’s awesome, Dad! What did you tell him?”

Pete senior sighed and locked eyes with his son. “The truth.”

\----------

Patrick sat with his head on Pete’s shoulder on the way home, still sniffling and traumatized from his whole ‘getting arrested’ experience. He’d been let off with a warning, but to Patrick it was like it had been stamped on his permanent record. He never wanted to break the law, stealing was the last thing in the world that he wanted to do.

He hated that Dale and Pete had had to come to get him out. It was embarrassing, put simply. He loved these people, and now they probably only saw him as some desolate criminal. It didn’t matter how sick or how hungry he was, Patrick had _stolen_. And been caught.

And he hated himself for it.

Pete had his arm around his boyfriend, quietly listening to his wheezing as he gently rubbed his arm. Pete hadn’t really spent a whole lot of time around sick people like his Mom had, but he knew enough to know that Patrick really wasn’t very well. He tried to imagine him at home, alone, with no food and no medicine, and the thought just made him feel sick to his stomach. Whenever he was sick, his Mom would always be there to take care of him and make him soup and he could always see a doctor. Patrick didn’t have any of that.

“You could’ve called me, you know?” Pete asked softly. “I would’ve come and got you.”

“Y-You already d-do so much.” Patrick murmured in response. “I d-didn’t wanna a-ask any more o-of you.”

Pete just gently kissed the top of his head. “I’d do anything for you, Sunshine. I love you.”

“I l-love you too.”

Upon arriving home, Dale was quick to run to the kitchen and warm up leftovers from the night before. “You’re okay with pasta bake for breakfast?”

Patrick nodded, looking down at his lap. “T-Thank you, for this…”

“That’s alright sweetheart, I’m just, dear god, three days!?”

Patrick’s face flushed red in embarrassment and he looked down again. “I-I’m sorry…”

“No, no, don’t be sorry. It’s alright, I just, I’m wondering how you’re still on your feet.” The microwave beeped and Dale quickly presented him with the bowl. “Three days is a long time, Ricky.”

Patrick ate as if he had never seen food before, and Pete just sat beside him with a cup of coffee while he polished it all off. Dale went through the medicine cabinet until she found her thermometer, and took his temperature. “104.7.”

“Is that bad, Mom?” Pete asked nervously.

“You finish your food, and it’s straight to bed with you.” She told Patrick, the concern visible on her face.

Patrick was too embarrassed to argue, and just nodded glumly.

Dale sighed. “Sweetheart, we’re not mad at you for what happened, okay? I think any reasonable person on this planet would have done the same thing in your situation. Please don’t think we’re mad. I’m just, well, worried more than anything right now. When’d you come down with the fever?”

Patrick thought about it for a moment. “S-Sunday?”

“Jesus.” She murmured. “Okay, let’s just get you to bed and we’ll go down to the clinic a little later. That’s sounding a hell of a lot like a chest infection.”

Patrick paled immediately at the thought of that and shook his head. “I-I’m okay without the clinic, my i-immune system is pretty good?”

“Ricky, I’m not taking no for an answer.” She told him, shuffling through her cupboard until she found some cold and flu pills. “Here. You take two of these, and have a lozenge, and then you have a nap in the spare room until the sun rises and everything’s open for the day. Alright?”

“O-okay…”

She sighed again. “The charges were dropped, alright? There’s nothing on your record, there was no conviction, they don’t even have your mugshot. Everything’s okay, Patrick, you don’t have to stress about it.”

“J-Just because they’re not c-charging me for it doesn’t mean t-that I didn’t do it!” He defended. “I-It’s such a b-bad thing to do a-and I promised I’d n-never steal a-anything and I’m j-just bad!”

Pete frowned. “Sunshine, did you have another choice?”

“No, b-but that still doesn’t m-make it right!”

Dale exhaled slowly, trying to figure out what to say to that. “Patrick, sweetheart, it’s 4 in the morning and you’re very tired and very sick. Have a sleep, and then we’ll talk about this in the morning when we’re all a little more awake, okay?”

Patrick just sighed and nodded. “Okay.”

\--------

Pete laid with his boyfriend to keep him company while he slept, and also because his breathing wasn’t sounding right and Pete just laid there listening to it.

They were snuggled up together in the spare bed, covered in so many blankets Pete could hardly move. Not that he needed to, this was the most comfortable bed in the house, and Patrick was snoozing softly on his shoulder.

There were a lot of things he was thinking about. He thought about what Patrick had said in regards to his stepfather, then about what Pete senior had told him about Patrick’s origin story. Then he thought about the web of lies that Patrick had been spinning since they met, and just worried, really.

More and more was coming to light, but Pete still felt trapped in the dark. Every new thing that he learned made Patrick’s backstory sadder, but every new thing he learned also led to more things he didn’t know. And it wasn’t like Patrick was the type of person who wanted to sit down and explain his entire life story start to finish.

He started to stir after a while, and Pete gently kissed the top of his head. “Morning, sunshine.”

Patrick groaned softly and clutched his stomach. “Ugh…”

“Sore?” Pete asked nervously.

“I’m okay…” He mumbled sleepily, snuggling up closer to Pete. “You’re nice and warm.”

Pete chuckled. “You’re pretty cosy yourself, sunshine.”

“Mmmm.” He murmured. “Can we not leave this moment?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s warm and cozy and I’m with you.” Patrick rested his arm on Pete’s chest. “And that makes everything perfect.”

Pete just kissed him. “Let’s get you better first and then it will be even more perfect.”

Patrick shook his head. “I like being sick. It gives me a normal sleep pattern. And that makes this better.”

“Oh, alright then.” Pete was a little confused, but went along with it. “But your breathing is still so weird and it’s a bit stressful to listen to. I keep thinking you’re gonna stop breathing in the middle of the night.”

“You didn’t stay up, did you?” Patrick winced.

“I was worried, Sunshine.”

Patrick just sighed. “You need to sleep.”

“So do you. And I’ll be damned if you die in your sleep because I chose to snooze.”

Patrick snorted. “I’m not gonna die, Pete. It’s just influzena type B and a chest infection. Nothing too scary.”

“I thought you said you hadn’t seen a doctor yet.”

Patrick sighed and rested his head back on Pete’s shoulder. “I did the first 4 years of a medical degree. I have all the doctor knowledge, I just haven’t done practical training as a junior doctor and therefore don’t have my degree.”

“For someone who doesn’t want to be a doctor…” Pete murmured.

“I know, I know. I did it for Mom, okay? It’s what she wanted and I didn’t wanna let her down.”

Pete just nodded. “So you can essentially diagnose yourself.”

“Yeah. I don’t need to see a real doctor.” He muttered. “I already know what it is and what I need to take.”

Pete frowned and gently stroked Patrick’s hair. “Why don’t you want to see someone? You need some antibiotics, right? For the infection?”

Patrick sighed. “No.”

“Yeah, you do.” Pete corrected. “Hey, listen. So my Dad told me something about you and I don’t know if you want me to know it, but I do…”

Patrick tensed up, his mind racing. There were many things that fit that description. “W-What?”

“I don’t want to say your conception, but your conception?” Pete winced at the awkwardness of the discussion. “And you being the 1% that survived.”

Patrick went wide-eyed. “H-How’d you know about that? Nobody knows about t-that. That’s a g-government secret…”

“My dad was in the military when the trial was being offered and was friends with your family at the time.” Pete explained awkwardly. “And I dunno, it just kinda explains your fear of medical treatment, but I just wanted to get you to understand that going to the clinic to get antibiotics is not like being studied or whatever. It’ll be completely different, and nothing will change, and you’ll be fine.”

Patrick rolled over and turned the other way, and Pete frowned. “Sunshine, c’mon…”

“So g-great.” He mumbled. “You k-know I’m just a freak now.”

“You’re not a freak.” Pete rolled over too. “Hell, that means nothing. It hasn’t changed anything, alright?”

“You t-think you know everything, but y-you don’t.” Patrick sniffled. “And i-if you did, y-you’d run so f-far away and I’d never see y-you again.”

“Sunshine, I wouldn’t do that. I love you.” Pete took his hand.

“But for h-how much longer?” Patrick accused.

“Forever.” Pete told him. “Forever and always because you’re my sunshine. You might think that I’m better off running away, but I’m not. You know what I did when you weren’t here? I stressed. I paced. I wrote poetry. I had to take my emergency anxiety meds daily because I love you, and I couldn’t fathom the thought of not being there if something happened to you. I love you.”

Patrick just turned around and hugged him tightly, blinking away the tears that were forming in his eyes. “I l-love you too, Pete.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that ending was cheesy as heck but I hope you liked it <3\. 
> 
> Thanks for all your support, honestly it means the world to me and I cannot thank you enough for all your comments and kudos and stuff.
> 
> BTW if any of y'all wanna chat or something or shake me back and forth in frustration, you'll find me floating around the internet on instagram @secretjungle88. I draw band art sometimes too? Idk. I'm not great at this whole self-promo thing.
> 
> I'ma drag my awkward butt out of this, thanks again for everything and I hope you have a great day :)


	18. Pete doesn’t want to go to school and Patrick deals with the highs and lows of being sick.

Pete’s Mom made him go to school the next day.

He did _not_ want to be at school. As he had explained that morning, it wasn’t like he was going to be able to concentrate anyway. Patrick was sick, deathly sick, and he needed to be by his side or he’d just spend all day worrying. Dale just brushed that off with the fact that she was a registered nurse, and Pete was hardly passing his classes and couldn’t afford any time off. So Pete went to school.

The day was just a blur of calculus questions and English essays until he got to music. Brendon once again greeted him at the door with a very-concerned “Have you heard from Sunshine?”

These past few days, Pete had glumly shook his head and sat down at his desk, but today he forced a smile. “Yeah, he’s a bit sick.”

“You spoke to him?!” Brendon exclaimed loudly, grabbing the attention of the rest of the class.  
Pete nervously rubbed the back of his neck, now speaking to a crowd. “Patrick’s okay. He’s a bit under the weather at the moment, but Mom’s taking him to a doctor today, so he should be okay.”

“Will he be back for the concert next Friday?” Dallon asked. 

“I dunno, maybe?” Pete responded uncertainly. “We’ll see.”

“Tell him I hope he feels better soon.” Professor Hoppus entered the room with a pile of song analysis papers. “Let’s get started guys.”

The class groaned, but went and collected some work to do. Pete tried to get it finished, but so much still burned on his mind. Mostly about his boyfriend, and the fact that his doctor’s appointment was scheduled for about now, and Pete felt awful that he couldn’t be there for him. He wanted to be there, to hold Patrick’s hand when he got nervous and needed one to squeeze, and then he’d lean over and kiss him, and then Patrick would kiss back and…

He shook the thoughts from his mind. He needed to get this music work done. 

\-------

Pete had never been more anxious to be home from school in his life. Normally it didn’t matter too much if he was a little late or stopped on the way home to get a milkshake or some candy or something, but today he sped home as if Patrick’s life depended on it.

Patrick was sleeping when he arrived home, snuggled up on the couch in the living room with a huge fluffy blanket and a pillow to support his head. Pete gently kissed his forehead, careful not to wake him, and headed to the kitchen where his mother was.

“How was school?” She asked.

“Fine.” Pete shrugged. “How’s Patrick?”

“Fever’s still dangerously high, but it’s come down a little since yesterday.” She explained. “We got some antibiotics from the doctor, and hopefully that should clear everything up.”

“Oh, good. He didn’t try and talk you out of it?”

Dale chuckled. “Oh, he certainly tried. He just didn’t win, and he went.”

“Sounds like him.” Pete smiled. “So, what are we doing? I mean, are we just gonna keep him here? When are you gonna send him home?”

“Well, he’s not going _anywhere_ with a fever like that.” She informed. “But I suppose it just depends. He’s got no food at home, and there’s actually nobody there, so your father and I have agreed he can stay here until his stepfather returns, but it all depends on what he wants to do. We can’t keep him against his will. Well, at least not when he’s healthy.”

“Okay, good.” Pete nodded.

“Do you want something to eat, sweetheart?” She offered him.

“I’m alright.” Pete sat himself up on the kitchen bench. “Hey, so you know how Dad and Patrick kinda know each other?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you know?” He asked. “I mean, he’s been over here heaps, and you weren’t super surprised when Dad met him again.”

“I’d never _met_ him, face to face. He didn’t know me.” Dale sighed. “I didn’t want to say anything that might make things a little weird. I was so proud of you, Pete, for making a new friend, and I just didn’t want to ruin anything by making it awkward.”

“You could’ve warned Dad, or something.” He frowned. “Or even just told me. It wouldn’t have made things awkward.”

“Pete, if I had told you, you would have run for the hills.” Dale raised an eyebrow. “It’s just who you are. But I do agree that I probably could’ve warned your father about it.”

“Yeah, obviously.” Pete muttered, thinking back to the awkward first meeting between the two.

“But look, I only had suspicions. I didn’t know David, and the only time I ever saw Patrick do anything was when he spoke at his father’s funeral years ago. When you first invited him over, that struck a chord, but I never exactly went to research it and make sure they were the same people.”

“You could’ve just googled him, you know?”

“And you know for a fact that he would’ve hated that.” Dale informed her son.

“True.” Pete murmured in agreement. “But anyway, is that why you were always fine with him being over all the time? You always made an extra plate of food for him and stuff, and you never kick him out, or anything.”

“Pete, the day he showed up at our house covered in blood, that’s the moment you never turn him away again.” She sighed, chopping some vegetables. “Not everyone has the same opportunities, and not everyone’s home is a safe place. It’s not my job to ask questions, or to be judgmental and assuming, but I’m always happy to make him a place at the table. He’s a lovely kid, Pete. Don’t let him go.”

“I don’t dream of it, Mom.” Pete smiled.

“Good. Now get off the bench, I need to plug in the slow cooker.”

Pete laughed and jumped down, kissing his mother on the cheek before heading back to the lounge room. Patrick was still sleeping, but that didn’t matter. Pete just sat down on the floor beside the sofa, and made sure to keep an eye on him while watching a silent TV with the subtitles on.

\--------

If there was anything Patrick hated more than doctors, it was being sick.

Being sick made him a burden on everyone and everything around him. Patrick constantly prided himself on his independence, his maturity, and his ability to run his own life as an adult despite looking like nothing more than a kid. He loved his freedom, and he loved being able to take care of himself, but when he was sick, that all got torn away from him.

Although being sick did give him the one thing that he didn’t have – the ability to sleep. He slept all day, only getting up to eat or visit the doctor, and then it was straight back to bed. Sometimes he wondered about if he snored or not. After all, Patrick had slept more in the past 2 days than he had in the past 2 weeks combined. And if felt damn good.

Patrick loved sleeping. He loved the feeling of being tired, of not having this constant energy that he needed to burn off by doing something productive. He loved lying down on the sofa or the bed and just closing his eyes and letting the hours fly by. But most of all, he loved waking up to Pete lying beside him, and being able to snuggle up nice and close to share their body heat.

“Morning, Sunshine.” Pete smiled as Patrick woke up after a long day of napping. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a bus.” Patrick mumbled truthfully, but smiled and rested his head on Pete’s lap. The TV was on, the volume on low and the subtitles telling this to be some sort of superhero movie. “I’m glad you’re back.”

Pete chuckled softly, pulling the fluffy blanket up to cover Patrick’s shoulders. “It’s good to be here. I’m glad you’re up.”

“Don’t count too much on that.” Patrick murmured sleepily. “You’re the best pillow.”

Pete played with his boyfriend’s hair mindlessly, while Patrick lay still and watched the movie, dozing in and out of consciousness. His head was pounding, his chest hurt, and he still wasn’t breathing quite right, but Pete was here now and he technically was still sleeping – so it was perfect.

“How was school?” Patrick yawned after a while.

“Eh. It was alright. Just calculus and stuff. Nothing important.” Pete shrugged. “I didn’t pay that much attention.”

Patrick groaned. “You gotta pay attention, Pete!”

“It’s not like you pay attention.”

“I’ve done it before.” Patrick stated. “When you’re doing it for the second-time, you don’t have to pay attention either.”

“I mean, I did pay attention in music.” Pete rubbed the back of his neck. “And I did do the work.”

“Good. I don’t want you to fail, okay? I want you to do the very best so you can graduate.” Patrick took his hand under the blanket. “Speaking of which, what did I miss?”  
“Just song analysis, nothing hard. You could probably do it in your sleep.” Pete chuckled. 

Patrick smiled as well, and snuggled back up to his boyfriend. “I love sleeping, Pete. It’s _amazing_.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Pete shrugged. “Y’know, most people think you’re the lucky one for not needing it. You can do so much more in your life because you have more hours in your day. That’s awesome.”

Patrick shook his head. “It’d only be awesome if everyone else had the same number of hours that I do. It’s just lonely, and dark. Not as much fun as it seems. Today has been amazing.”

“Because of all the sleep?”

“Uh huh.” Patrick nodded. “It’s the only good thing about being sick.”

“Yeah. How’d you go at the doctor today?”

Pete felt him tense up, but Patrick hid it in his voice. “Fine. Influenza type B and a chest infection. Nothing I couldn’t have told myself.”

“He gave you meds though, and that’s something you couldn’t have done yourself.”

“Why do you keep dwelling on this?” Patrick turned to make eye contact. “You know exactly why I don’t like doctors, you know that it makes me uncomfortable to talk about. So why do you dwell on it?”

“Because… I dunno… sorry, Sunshine…” Pete apologised. “I just… you’re amazing. At everything. Having something that you’re not 100% confident and happy about… it humanizes you, I guess?”

“I don’t need to be humanized. I _am_ human.” Patrick quickly defended, sitting up and pulling his knees to his chest. “I am. It doesn’t matter what I can do or how I was born, it’s all human DNA and I _am_ human, okay?!”

“Okay…” Pete held his hands up in surrender, not expecting that response in the slightest. “Sunshine, I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve never thought about you like that, ever.” A thought crossed his mind. “Have people been mean to you over something like that?”

“I don’t talk about that.” Patrick mumbled in response, throwing the blanket off and quickly going to the bathroom. The lock was broken, something Pete’s Mom had done when he’d first come home from inpatient (the doctor’s had requested it, for his ‘safety’ or some shit like that), but Pete didn’t barge in. 

Instead, he knocked lightly on the door. “Sunshine, I’m sorry…”

He didn’t get a verbal response, instead just the sound of his boyfriend throwing up. Okay, now Pete could barge in, and he quickly rushed to Patrick’s side. 

God, how Patrick hated being sick.

Dale was the next in the room, and also stayed by his side until he was done and there was nothing but stomach acid coming up. “Oh, sweetheart…”

“I w-wanna go back to sleep.” Patrick croaked, resting his head on the edge of the toilet bowl.

She just nodded and helped him up, and led him back to the spare room. Pete tucked him in with a kiss to the forehead, and laid beside him on the bed while Dale went to get his next dosage of medication.

Pete gently kissed Patrick’s cheek. “You’re not mad, right?”

Patrick shook his head and snuggled up close to him. “I d-don’t like being sick.”

“I know Sunshine, it’s not that great.” Pete put his arm around him and held him close. “But you’ll be better soon. Until then, you can enjoy the sleep right?”

Patrick was already snoring lightly on his chest.

\-----------

Long story short, Patrick got better. That’s what happens when you’re in a safe home with people who love you and you have the right medicine. He spent his days mostly sleeping, until his fever went down, breathing got a little easier and his sleep schedule returned to being mostly non-existent.

But he didn’t go home.

He knew that Clarence was back by now, and had probably already done the groceries and filled the house with food again, but he didn’t want to leave the Wentz home. He still had a slight fever, so that was a good excuse to hang around a little longer. He liked it here. First off, there was Pete, who was the centre of his entire world, but he also had friends, and two adults who looked after him too.

He just avoided all conversations about how long he was staying, and focused on just, well, being himself. Having fun. Spending time with Pete, kissing Pete a whole lot. Teaching Hillary card tricks and helping her with her homework. Helping Andrew with his finance degree and playing soccer with him in the small backyard. And making music. Sitting with Pete, strumming his guitar, or even just fiddling with the mixing software on his computer late at night.

He wrote a lot of happy songs here. Ones that were filled with the joy of lying in bed with Pete and talking about the most random things, and ones that were filled with the fire that burned in both of them when their lips met.

He never wanted to leave.

He was sure that everyone else knew that he was almost better now, he’d finished his antibiotics and didn’t need the cold and flu pills or the cough syrup anymore. But Dale never said anything, and just winked at him as she gave him the last piece of chicken. 

“When are you coming back to school, Patrick?” Hillary asked over dinner.

“Um… I don’t know…” Patrick admitted honestly.

“Are you singing at the concert on Friday? Everyone wants you too. Some people bought tickets just so they could hear you sing.”

Patrick winced slightly. “I’m not singing though…”

“Yes, you are.” Pete informed him.

“But I’m not good at singing…”

“Bullshit!” Andrew called.

“Language!” Dale and Pete senior corrected in unison.

Patrick went red, and Pete chuckled, kissing his cheek. “Sunshine, you’re an amazing singer. You’re gonna sing Yule Shoot your Eyes Out, remember?”

“Oh, yeah…” He nodded unsurely. “Are you sure we can’t get Brendon to sing it? I mean, I’d be much better on the drums.”

“But you’re so good, Patrick!” Hillary rushed. “You need to play it.”

Patrick just hesitantly nodded, and squeezed Pete’s hand under the table.

\-----------

It was late at night when the music started, coming from the stereo out in the kitchen. Pete and Patrick were lying on Pete’s bed, but Patrick immediately perked up when he heard the soft piano melody and the sound of Dale’s laughter.

“They’re dancing.” Patrick stated.

“Uh huh.” Pete responded mindlessly, turning the page of the poetry book he was reading. “They do that.”

Patrick quickly got up and extended a hand to his boyfriend. “Peter Louis Kingston Wentz, will you have this dance with me?”

Pete laughed at first, brushing it off as a joke. “Nice one, Sunshine.”

“I’m serious, c’mon, it’ll be fun.” Patrick grinned.

“I can’t dance.” Pete added quickly.

“I’ll teach you!”

Pete couldn’t ignore that smile, the stupid smile that just made his insides melt. So he rolled his eyes playfully, and let Patrick led him to the living room to where his parents were dancing. Patrick giggled and looked up at his boyfriend. “Do you know any dances?”

Pete shook his head.

“Alright, let’s do it then. So you put your hand here, and then hold my hand here.” Patrick placed Pete’s hand on his back, and put his own hand on Pete’s shoulder, holding their other hands out in front of them. “Okay, there.”

Pete laughed. “So you’re gonna be the girl, Sunshine?”

“No, you are.” Patrick responded with a grin. “It wouldn’t be a dance if you didn’t spin under my arm, right?”

“I’m like, a foot taller than you.”

“I know.” Patrick giggled. “Okay, so this dance is called the foxtrot, right?”

“Right.” Pete nodded.

“So we start like this. So you take one step back with your right foot, and then one back with your left, and then side step and bring your feet back together.” Patrick led them over the floor, following Pete’s feet with his own. “See, there you go!”

“That’s it?” Pete asked, before laughing.

“Uh huh. Then we do it in time with the music, right? The side steps are faster. So it goes slow, slow, quick, quick. Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Pete nodded in understanding, doing the step routine again as Patrick led them around room. His movements were slow and jerky in comparison to Patrick’s smooth steps and well-practiced routine, but it was fun nonetheless. His parents were dancing as well, and they almost crashed into eachother at one point, but Patrick was fast enough to dodge them, and that just led to all four of them laughing hysterically as they continued dancing.

“Are you ready?” Patrick asked as they drew closer to the chorus.

“For what?”

“To spin, silly!” Patrick giggled. “Step, step, side, side, and spin!”

Pete had to duck considerably to fit under Patrick’s arm, but they both laughed and Patrick twirled him around before pulling him back into position to keep going. 

They danced until the end of the song, keeping eye contact as Patrick guided them around the living room. Pete could see himself getting lost in Patrick’s eyes, the deep blue reminding him of a the ocean he could just dive straight into. Patrick could easily see himself swimming in Pete’s eyes, a pool of chocolate and sweetness. 

The song ended, and Pete pulled him closer, bringing their lips together. They’d kissed before, many, many times, but this was the first time that it lit a fire inside Pete that told him this was more than a teenage crush. He didn’t like-like Patrick, or even like-like-liked Patrick. That kiss was the sign, he _loved_ Patrick.

Patrick never wanted to leave.


	19. Patrick goes for a run and it’s finally time to for Pete and Patrick to perform at the Christmas concert

Pete had been consuming a much higher volume of coffee than usual recently.

It hadn’t been too hard at first, adjusting to Patrick’s bizarre sleep schedule. As he got better, his sleeping went from 12 hours a day, down to 8 hours a night, then down to five, but now he was at 2 or 3, and Pete really wasn’t coping all that well.

He hated that he had to say goodnight, and just leave Patrick like that. Patrick would understand every night, kiss him goodnight and sit up in the spare room with some of Pete’s poetry books to pass the next few hours. But that didn’t mean that Pete didn’t feel an overwhelming sense of guilt for leaving him like that. Yeah, sure, he’d been like this for years and was used to being alone, but not in Pete’s house he wasn’t.

Pete just felt awful about it, and had as such taken to trying to match his boyfriend’s absurdly small amount of sleep. He was on his third night of 3 hours of sleep, and it was really starting to take a toll. No huge number of cups of coffee seemed to help him, he was honestly hardly on his feet.

“Pete, you gotta go to bed early tonight…” Patrick told him unsurely. “You’re not looking great.”

“I’m fine, Sunshine.” Pete forced a smile from underneath the bags under his eyes. 

“No, you’re not.” Patrick responded sadly. “You gotta stop staying up for me. You’re making yourself sick. How are you even paying attention in school?”

Truth be told, Pete hadn’t been paying attention in school, and had slept through two of his classes today. But Patrick didn’t need to know that right now.

“I’m fine, Sunshine. Don’t worry about me.” Pete assured him, turning his head back towards the television.

“Pete, you go to bed early and get proper rest, or I’m leaving.”

“What?!”

“Not leaving _you_ ,” Patrick corrected quickly. “I don’t want to leave you. I’ll just go home, okay? So that way I’m not a distraction or whatever and you can actually go to bed on time.”

“But what about-“

“Clarence has been home for about a week now.” Patrick admitted. “So I should be heading back soon anyway. Understood?”

“Seriously?” Pete echoed. 

“You’re hurting yourself for me and I don’t like it, because it doesn’t need to be happening.” Patrick told him sternly. “So you’re gonna sleep or I’m gonna leave so you sleep.”

“You’re being _ridiculous_.”

“I think the fact that you haven’t slept in three days and think you’re fine is ridiculous.” He responded quickly. “Pete, I’m not _like_ you, okay? I am in a lot of ways, but I have a lot of quirks that make me really different, and just because you don’t have them too doesn’t mean that I love you any less. If anything, it makes me love you more. So you’re gonna sleep tonight, right?”

“Right.” Pete lied.

\--------

“Pete, go to bed.”

“I’m not tired.”

“ _Pete_.”

“I’m not!” He defended, taking another sip of his very strong coffee. “It’s only 9, Sunshine. Chill out.”  
“It’s only nine, but you’re exhausted and it’s making me stressed just watching you.” Patrick tossed a pillow at him from the other end of the couch. “Go to sleep.”

“No.” Pete told him defiantly, like he was six years old again and refusing to go to bed until his favourite cartoon was finished.

“Then come here.” Patrick kicked his shoes off and spread out. “Come snuggle with me, at least.”

“Seriously?”

Patrick patted the couch expectantly and gave Pete a look he couldn’t resist. He put his cup down and snuggled right up to his boyfriend, resting his head on Patrick’s lap while he watched the TV. It didn’t take more than 5 minutes, his eyelids drooping and eventually drifing off into the land of dreams.

Patrick smiled, and pecked a light kiss to Pete’s forehead, before squeezing out from his spot and pulling his shoes back on. He tucked Pete in with a few blankets and a cushion to support his head, before collecting his backpack and guitar case, before slipping out the front door without a sound.

God, it was cold out here. He really hadn’t accounted for that, all he was wearing was his coat and the yellow sweatpants that Dale had bought him the day after he was arrested, plus his running shoes. But that didn’t matter, he just quickly swapped his fedora for a yellow beanie, and stretched a little. Patrick hadn’t run for over a week now, and he was itching to get back at it.

It was easiest to run at night, there was nobody else around and he could really push himself to his full potential. Sure, he was carrying a little bit of extra weight in the form of his guitar case and backpack, but that didn’t matter. Just made it more of a challenge, really. It became more exciting the more he thought about it, and after stretching for a few seconds, he was off.

By the time he got where he needed to be, he checked the time on his phone. 9:34. Only 24 minutes to run home, and that was _with_ his backpack and guitar case, and not even in his good running shoes.

Clarence would be pleased.

\--------

“How can he just be _gone_ Pete?!” Dale asked loudly.

“I don’t know, Mom!” Pete panicked. “We were on the couch, and I had my head on his lap, and then I think I nodded off and then I woke up and he was fucking gone!” He tossed through the pillows on his bed, and then shuffled through the contents of his desk. “He’s taken everything, all his stuff! Where the hell did he even go?!”

“He probably just went home. Stop overreacting.” Hillary rolled her eyes. “You can’t hold him captive forever, Petey. We’ll probably see him at school, anyway. If not, then we can freak out, alright? Have you even tried to call him?”

_No. No he had not tried that._

“U-Uh…”

 

Dale handed him his phone, and the family stood in silence as it rung to voicemail. Pete tried again with the same response. Then again and again and again until he threw his phone on the bed in frustration. “I went to sleep like he fucking wanted me to! Then he just goes and _leaves?!_ ”

“What?” Dale asked softly, trying to calm her son down.

“H-He told me, he said I had to go to bed early and if I didn’t _then_ he’d go home so he w-wasn’t distracting me from sleeping. But I went to bed at 9, Mom! I got enough sleep!” Pete’s chest grew heavy and he slumped into his desk chair.

“Well, at least that means he’s probably safe.” She murmured. “Look, Petey, get ready for school and see if he’s there. If not, then we’ll see what we can do. If he is, then I’m sure you two can talk it out. I have to go work, look, I love you sweetheart, have a good day.”

He was never to angry to give his mother a goodbye hug, so he did so and quickly got ready, before driving a little above the speed limit to school. It didn’t take Pete very long to find Patrick’s locker, and stood at it with his arms folded and scowled at every freshman that passed him until Patrick actually showed up.

In the perfect world, he would have yelled at him, grabbed his shoulders, and shook him back in forth in frustration while lecturing him about the heart attack that he experienced when he woke up and Patrick was just _gone_. But once again, Patrick was walking the halls with a crowd trailing behind him, latching on to every word he spoke. But that didn’t mean his face didn’t light up when he saw Pete, and ran to hug him. “Pete!”

“Sunshine…” Pete exhaled, the stress leaving his mind and being replaced by nothing by relief that he was here and he was okay and he was back in Pete’s arms, where he belonged.

“Sleep well?” He smiled, a slightly cheeky grin in his eye.

Pete glared at him, but pulled him closer. “Don’t leave without saying anything, okay? If you wanna go home, that’s fine, but you gotta let me know so I don’t have a fucking heart attack like I did this morning.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry… did you not find my note?”

Pete blinked. “Your note?”

“It was on the yellow piece of paper, on your computer.” Patrick explained.  
Pete frowned. He’d thrown everything on his desk to the floor in his panic this morning. “Sorry, Sunshine.”

“That’s okay. We’ve got music now, anyway.” He beamed and took Pete’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “We can finally practice our song. We’re playing it tonight, anyway.”

Pete smiled and nodded. “I’m so glad you’re back at school.”

“Me too, Pete.”

\--------

“P-Pete, I changed my mind. I d-don’t wanna sing. It’s a metal s-song, you can s-sing and I’ll guitar, o-okay?”

“Sunshine, you’re okay. Don’t freak out.” Pete gently rubbed his shoulder. “We’ve still got an hour until we go on, okay? You’re gonna be _fine_.”

Patrick shook his head and paced around the rehearsal room quickly. “I can’t do it Pete, I just can’t.”

“Of course you can. You’re Patrick fucking Stump. You can do _anything_. You’re like a superhero-“ He trailed off, remembering that Patrick really didn’t like being called that. “You’re the best fucking musician I’ve ever met in my life, and you can totally do this. You’ve performed to much bigger crowds that this. You’re gonna be fine.”

“But w-what if I mess it up?! Oh, god!” He tossed his hat to the ground angrily. “A-and your Mom and your D-Dad will see and so will everyone at s-school and jesus, Pete!”

Pete quickly picked the hat back up, honestly surprised to see this level of anger and fear come out of the raging optimist. “Sunshine, you gotta take a few deep breaths and try not to work yourself up over this. You’re gonna do great. I know that for certain.”

“No you don’t!” Patrick snapped at him. “Nobody knows anything for certain until it happens! Sure, you could argue that it’s certain that the sun will rise tomorrow morning, but there’s no way that you can be absolutely _one hundred percent_ certain that aliens won’t destroy it from the inside out tonight and wipe out all of humanity! Certainty is a useless concept. A concept is only meaningful when it subsumes some things and not others. If every human ever born were right-handed, we would have no concept or phrase of "right-handed". It would be meaningless!” He broke off into swearing in several languages that Pete didn’t understand, and kicking some specks of paper on the floor rather aggressively.

Pete was left speechless, and tried to formulate a response, but Patrick just kept going. “Hell, Pete, does the world around us even exist?! What if we’re all in a stupid simulation like in the matrix? Can you prove we’re not? Can you prove we are?! No! You can’t! In the exact same way that you can’t prove I’m going to absolutely ruin this performance until I get up on stage!”

“Sunshine, buddy, you gotta _calm down_.” Pete whispered hesitantly, reaching out to touch his arm. Patrick jumped away and held his arms up, and shook his head.

“D-Don’t touch. I’ll, I’ll hurt you…”

“No, you won’t.” Pete tried to sound certain here, and hide his fear that his literal sunshine of a boyfriend was afraid of hurting him. “You won’t hurt me. You don’t want to hurt me, or anyone else, or yourself. You’re just having a bit of a freak out, because of stage fright or something, and you’re going a little nuts, and that’s okay, I mean, I go nuts a whole lot more than you. But you gotta trust me, and you gotta trust yourself. You’re not gonna hurt me.”

“I-I’m, I…” Patrick didn’t put his arms down, just clenched his eyes shut for a few moments. When he opened them, they were glistening with tears, and Pete’s heart shattered.

“You’re not gonna hurt me.” Pete repeated gently, taking a step towards his boyfriend, and gently taking his hand. “Shhh. Deep breaths. You’re okay.”

The plan worked a hell of a lot better in his head. At first Patrick grabbed his hand gently, and kept his gaze on the floor, and Pete was about to smile and praise him when the kid’s grip grew a billion times tighter and he somehow managed to throw the older boy straight onto the floor behind him in one quick movement.

And god, it hurt like a motherfucker.

Pete grunted in pain, mostly from being slammed against the floor with all of Patrick’s might, and once he’d actually computed what had happened, quickly wiggled all his extremities to check that it all still worked and nothing had been broken in the fall. Everything felt alright, except for his left hand, in which his wrist was throbbing and he clutched it with another groan.

“PETE?!” Patrick panicked, quickly running over with tears spiling freely now. “O-Oh god, O-o-oh my god, I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“I-I’m fine, Sunshine.” Pete grunted, forcing himself to sit up. “God, remind me to never get in a fistfight with you.”

“I h-hurt you! O-Oh my god!” Patrick cried out, digging his fingers into his scalp. “I-I’m sorry!”

“I’m not hurt, kid. Take a deep breath, it’s alright.” Pete told him, still cradling his wrist in his right arm. Patrick noticed this, and just took it as an excuse to make himself feel worse. 

“H-Here.” He nervously held his hands out. “L-Let me check if it’s broken.”

Even though Pete had every reason not trust this kid right now (He’d just thrown him to the fucking _floor_ ), he held his sore hand out and held his breath and Patrick gently examined it with shaking hands. “S-Sprained.”

“Well, not broken, right?” Pete forced a grin.

“I-I’ll, I’ll be back.” Patrick got up and ran straight out of the room.

“SUNSHINE!” Pete called after him, expecting him to do the opposite of his words. But sitting there alone gave him time to process. That wasn’t a little throw, that was Patrick throwing pretty much a fully grown human being across the room to the floor, with little more than a flick of the wrist. Not to mention the fact that he’d _acknowledged_ he might do something like that before Pete even touched him.

Even Pete didn’t get that worked up during his manic moments. This was on some kind of other level.

He was about to get up and chase the kid, when Patrick returned with a bandage roll in his hands, and knelt down beside Pete to fix his hand. He was gentle, much more gentle than Pete remembered his mother being, and took the time to make sure it was all done correctly. He tied it closed, and finished with placing two painkillers in Pete’s palm and giving him the saddest and most apologetic look that Pete had ever seen in his life.

“It’s okay, kid.” Pete quickly threw the pills to the back of his throat and swallowed them. “I’m not that hurt, it’s all good. I know you didn’t mean it.” He wanted so badly to reach out and grab Patrick’s hand, but had recently discovered why that wasn’t a great idea. “Have you calmed down a little?”

Patrick nodded silently and kept his gaze to the floor, the guilt holding him back from making eye contact.

“Okay, good.” Pete smiled gently at him, before opening his arms. “Cuddles?”

The younger boy didn’t need to be asked twice, and launched himself into Pete’s arms. Pete held him close, quickly shushing his tears and stroking his hair, occasionally kissing his forehead and assuring him that it was all okay, his hand didn’t hurt that bad, he knew Patrick didn’t mean to hurt him, and it was all okay.

“C-Can you still play tonight?” Patrick asked hesitantly.

Now that was a good question. Pete grabbed his instrument and his pick, and played a couple of notes. It did hurt, a tiny bit, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle now that the painkillers were kicking in. “Yeah, yeah. It’s all good, see? We’re gonna rock the stage tonight. The two of us, yeah? Together.”

“Together.” Patrick responded, his eyes on his shoes. “Yeah.”

\--------

It came to no surprise to the audience, or to Pete, that Patrick did absolutely crush the stage. Professor Hoppus had given the two of them the closing slot on the program, and that just gave Patrick all the more ability to finish the show with a bang and belt the lyrics out with all the passion his little lungs could hold.

Pete was so proud of him and his music that he hardly even noticed the pain coming from his hand all song.

They met up with the rest of the Wentz family when the concert was over, and Dale wrapped the two of them in a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks, Mom.” Pete chuckled.

“The song was amazing, boys!” She giggled excitedly. “Oh my goodness! You did so well! Pete! Those lyrics and that bass, and Ricky, don’t you ever _dare_ tell me you can’t sing again!”

Patrick giggled slightly. “Okay.”

“Hey, Pete…” Hillary interrupted. “What happened to your hand?”

“Just fell over being an idiot in the dressing room.” Pete chuckled, flexing against the bandages. “It’s just sprained, it should be fine in a few days. Doesn’t hurt that much.”

Dale tutted and fussed over the bandage for a moment, before deeming it acceptable and kissing her son’s cheek. “You gotta be more careful, honey.”

“I know, I know.” He chuckled. “I will.”

Andrew snorted. “Like hell you will.”

“True.” Pete laughed in agreement. “Thanks for coming to watch tonight, it was good.”

“Thanks for the tickets, bro.” Hillary smiled.

It wasn’t until the Wentz family was about to get in their car to go home that Pete and Patrick had a moment alone together. Patrick shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at his boyfriend. “T-Thank you, for lying for m-me…”

“Hey, it’s alright Sunshine. Nothing you wouldn’t do for me.” Pete smiled. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Patrick smiled, taking Pete's good hand in his own. “But only if you kiss me first.”

Pete didn’t need to be asked twice, and the two enjoyed the warmth of each other's faces in the snow for a few moments before Andrew honked the horn of the car, and Patrick waved goodbye as his favourite family drove off into the night.


	20. Pete gives Patrick a lesson in Christmas movies and Patrick realises that having friends is really damn expensive.

Pete loved Christmas break more than any other break from school. Yeah, sure, summer break was fun, but Christmas break gave him time with his family and more time to work on his music. There was no inpatient stay, and no pressure. Just sitting inside, spending time with the people he loved more than anything. It was pure bliss in Pete’s mind, and was only made better by Patrick’s presence.

It was the first day of break, and everything was already exactly perfect. Patrick had showed up in the morning, his cheeks tinted pink from the cold, and they’d had that perfect little kiss under the mistletoe that Dale had hung on the front porch. Then they’d come inside, enjoyed some warm hot cocoa and were now lying on the couch together, snuggled up tightly while watching the Polar Express.

“I still can’t believe you’ve never seen this.” Pete chuckled, rubbing Patrick’s arm affectionately. “It’s truly a work of art.”

“How does the train show up at his house if there’s no tracks there?” Patrick asked, his tone laced with confusion.

“Magic.” Pete chuckled. “Christmas magic powers the train.”

“Do you know how trains work, Pete? They run on _tracks_.” Patrick explained. “Magic might power the _engine_ , but there’s no way that train can run if it’s not on tracks. Wait… it’s not a train then. It’s probably some other sort of vehicle, disguised as an old steam train. The very definition of a train is that it needs to run on tracks. So that makes that thing some sort of flying car.”

“Shhhh.” Pete shushed him. “Don’t pick it apart. It’s a magic fucking train, okay? And Santa sent it.”

“Right.” Patrick mumbled, turning his attention back to the movie.

“Do you like, not celebrate Christmas or something as a kid?” Pete asked, wondering how on earth he didn’t know these things.

“Of course we did.” Patrick muttered. “We just… did it differently.”

“How’d you do it then?”

“We just, I don’t know.” Patrick shrugged, trying to find the words. “We bought each other presents and stuff, but we never did the whole Santa Clause thing, and we didn’t really have a tree or anything, and I haven’t seen any of these movies, and yeah.”

“You poor, poor deprived child.” Pete pulled him closer. “We’re having a movie marathon today, okay? I’m not letting you get up from this couch until you’ve seen _all_ the classics.”  
Patrick just rolled his eyes. “Only if you stay with me.”

Pete kissed his cheek. “Of course, Sunshine.”

\----

Putting up the Wentz family Christmas tree had been a strictly family activity since Pete was small, but Patrick was essentially part of the family now, and Dale had been horrified when Pete asked if he was gonna have to send Patrick home so they could actually do it.

“Of course not!” She’d exclaimed loudly at him. “He practically lives here too!”

So here they were, sitting in the living room as Pete senior dragged a monster of a tree in through the door and set it up in the corner. Pete sat with his arm around his boyfriend, who was watching the display with a mix of awe and wonderment on his face. How had he never done this before? He didn’t know anyone who didn’t put a tree up at Christmas, other than Joe, but still.

“Is it big enough?” Hillary remarked sarcastically.

“It’s beautiful, sweetheart.” Dale kissed her husband’s cheek.

“Can we decorate it now?” Andrew asked, opening the bag of decorations he’d dug out of the garage.

“Sweaters first!” Dale demanded with a laugh, opening the shopping bag.

“You made sweaters?” Patrick asked, his eyes widening.

Andrew scoffed. “No, kid. She got them at Target. They’re super lame, but it’s just a thing we do.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “That’s cool though.”

She handed the sweaters out, and Pete pulled his own. Green, this year, with a snowman design on the front in red. His matched his father and his brother, with his sister and mother wearing red sweaters with a green design on them. Dale finally reached the bottom of the back and threw a yellow one to Patrick, decorated with white snowflakes. “That one’s for you, darling.”

Patrick giggled in what could only be described as pure glee, and pulled it on. “Thank you!”

“Now you look as stupid as the rest of us.” Hillary chuckled. “A proper part of the family now.”

God, how that made Patrick’s heart swell. He hadn’t realised how much he truly needed a family until he found himself here. These people _loved _him. They took care of him and fed him and gave him medicine when he was sick, and treated him like he one of their own. He loved them for it. He hadn’t had anything like that in years, and now he had it, he never wanted to give it up again.__

__Pete kissed his cheek. “Alright, c’mon, let’s get to decorating.”_ _

__It was a surreal experience, hanging the ornaments on the branches and wresting with the tinsel. Pete kept an eye on his boyfriend, watching his facial expressions as he hung the ornaments and listened to the family conversation. He was smiling, and seemed really, really happy. Not fake happy, like Pete saw come out in him fairly often these days, but genuinely glad to be here and appreciating the entire situation._ _

__It was beautiful._ _

__“Ricky, sweetheart, do you wanna put the angel on top?” Dale offered when all the ornaments were done._ _

__“Can I reach?” Patrick asked himself out loud._ _

__Pete laughed. “I’ll lift you up, Sunshine.”_ _

__He wasn’t very heavy, and Pete gave him a slight boost so he could reach the top of the tree to put the Angel on the topmost branch. The rest of the family cheered, and Patrick giggled, hugging his boyfriend tightly when he got back to the ground. “Thank you.”_ _

__“Hey, it’s alright. Thanks for coming.” Pete hugged him tightly._ _

__They were interrupted by Hillary bringing out a handful of presents to put under the three. “Just so it doesn’t look bare, okay?”_ _

__Pete laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”_ _

__Patrick was too busy staring at one of them, mostly because it had his name on it. “A-Are you getting me things? Oh…”_ _

__“Of course we are. You’re one of us now.” Pete informed him matter-of-factly._ _

__Patrick hadn’t considered that. Sure, he had the scrapings of coins from leftover grocery bills, but it wasn’t like he had a small stash of cash ready to get gifts for the entire family. Hell, he could hardly afford to get _Kevin_ something this year, let alone everyone else._ _

__But he tried not to let his worries show on his face, and just sat down on the couch as Pete popped another Christmas DVD into the slot. “This one’s a classic too, and you gotta at least tell me you know Rudolf, right?”_ _

__Patrick shook his head. “No?”_ _

__“Damn, kid.” He chuckled, sitting beside him and pulling a blanket over them both. “Let’s get started then.”_ _

__\------_ _

__Patrick hated this._ _

__He hated this more than anything. He hated this more than he hated singing on stage. He hated this more than doctors. He hated this more than people looking him up on the internet. But it wasn’t like he had a choice. He had Christmas presents to buy, and it wasn’t like he had any cash on hand. So here he was, sitting on the bench while Clarence slowly attached the patches and the wires and hooked him up to everything._ _

__“Are you doing it this slowly on purpose?” Patrick growled at him, looking down at his lap._ _

__Clarence gently smoothed the patch on his shoulder down, and placed the appropriate wires on the ports. “Maybe.”_ _

__“You asshole.” He grunted._ _

__“Hey, you’re the one who came to me.” The older man chuckled and tested the strength of the wires, just to make sure they wouldn’t snap off. “Needed cash for your little boyfriend, right?”_ _

__“Shut up.” He growled in frustration, trying not to break his nose again. “Don’t talk about Pete.”_ _

__“Aww, the kid’s protective.” Clarence chuckled. “Is he good looking, huh? Got a beautiful body? Soft lips? Oh, yeah. He does. Look at that.”_ _

__The urge to beat the hell out of this guy was growing stronger, but Patrick just clenched his hands tighter. Punching him again would mean no pay, and he needed the cash. “You better pay me double for this.”_ _

__“I really shouldn’t have to pay you at all. You realise that the money is my own goodwill, right? You’re mine, I don’t owe you anything.” Clarence shoved the needle into his arm, and taped it in place. “You’ll get what I feel you deserve at the end. Unclench your hand, we don’t wanna lose any blood.”_ _

__Patrick wanted to kill him._ _

__There were more wires, the whole process normally took 40 minutes, but it had been an hour since Clarence started. They were connected to everything, his chest, his arms, his legs, and worst of all, there were several over his head. The worse were the ones with the needles, which apparently gave ‘more accurate data’, but hurt like hell when they were stabbed into him. And there was currently one in each of his temples, and it was giving him a terrible headache._ _

__“Does your boyfriend know about all this?” Clarence asked, taking note of all the readings on the machines Patrick was hooked up to._ _

__“No.” Patrick growled. “And he won’t.”_ _

__“Correct.” The soldier nodded, pulling the cap of wires over Patrick’s hair, and tightening it under his chin. “We’re gonna have to get you another haircut soon. I can’t get correct readings from this if it gets any longer.”_ _

__“I’m not going to school with a buzzcut.” Patrick snapped at him._ _

__“Feisty tonight, are you?” Clarence chuckled. “You know, there really is just a teenager under all that brainpower. Worried about what everyone else thinks about you, wanting your appearance to be perfect, just wanting to fit in with all your stupid little buddies. It’s _adorable_.”_ _

__Patrick’s anger was growing. God, he hated this. The memories of why he stopped started coming back to him, but he couldn’t back out now. He wanted to get Pete something nice, something to thank him and his family for all they’d done for him. So that just meant tonight he had to run, and put up with Clarence being a sadistic asshole._ _

__“You’ll get a haircut when I say you get a haircut.” Clarence told him firmly, adjusting the cap and stepping away. “Alright, you’re ready, get on the treadmill.”_ _

__Patrick normally loved his treadmill. The one upstairs in his room was his lifeblood. Whenever he was at home and wasn’t sleeping or eating or showering, he was running. His computer could sit on the end of it, and he could run and work and run and work and run and work until eventually he felt some sort of feeling of exhaustion. Then he’d sleep for maybe an hour and then he’d be up again, working and running, trying to get as much energy out of him so he’d be relatively calm and normal during school hours, and when he was with Pete._ _

__But this one down in his basement was nothing of the sort. It bigger, more industrial, and every time that Patrick had to run on it, he was covered in wires and trackers and scanners, and it just made the entire process torturous. Plus, he wasn’t allowed to multitask on this one. He just had to run and run and run while the speed got faster and faster and faster, and Clarence recorded everything._ _

__“Do they really hurt _that_ much?” Clarence mocked slightly. “C’mon kid, this is a light setup. Just a couple of needles. You’re fine.”_ _

__“They’re in my damn head, Clarence!” Patrick snapped at him, fighting off the urge to tear them out._ _

__“Not for much longer. You ready to start?”_ _

__Patrick growled a ‘fine’ under his breath and stood up on the treadmill, digging his feet into his shoes and stretching his arms out. It started out slow, like it always did. Start with a walk to to warm himself up. Then it got faster. He wasn’t jogging for very long though, soon enough he was running, and then he was finally sprinting._ _

__The moving felt good, as did the opportunity to finally push himself, but these wires were digging in and one of them was pulling slightly and he was doing his very best to ignore it. He needed a new best today. That hopefully meant Clarence would shove a bit more money at him._ _

__It had taken over six months of him being an absolute asshole to all the other ‘guardians’ before he finally agreed to jump on the treadmill occasionally with Clarence. It took a hell of a lot of convincing – he’d had to bargain his way into permission to attend school, permission to go out whenever he wanted, and permission to visit his brother from time to time. Not to mention he refused to do anything they wanted unless they paid him a decent allowance._ _

__“Focus, Patrick.” Clarence tutted, watching his facial expressions._ _

__Patrick just swore in Japanese at him, and focused his gaze straight ahead. Faster and faster and faster and faster and-_ _

__His foot slipped. The treadmill threw him against the brick wall with an immense amount of power, and he grunted as he hit, slumping to the floor. He was sweaty now – gross. It took a hell of a lot for Patrick to get sweaty, but he was drenched right now, and his head was buzzing. He needed a shower, and then some water, and _ugh_. Patrick hated this._ _

__“Not bad, kid.” Clarence wrote some things down on his clipboard, not running to help him up like one might expect. But that was okay, that was probably the closest thing to a compliment that Patrick was ever going to get out of the guy, and he forced himself up and over to his water bottle._ _

__“New best?” He asked hopefully._ _

__“2 seconds off.” He responded. “But it’s been a month since you ran last. So not terrible.” He opened his wallet and flicked a 10 dollar note at him._ _

__Patrick was seething in anger. He’d put everything he had into that run, and just for a measly 10 bucks? He couldn’t buy everyone Christmas presents with 10 dollars! But as he looked up at Clarence, he realized this was the plan all along._ _

__“So, we’ll run again tomorrow night?”_ _

__“I hate you.” Patrick spat, pulling the cap off and tearing the wires away from him._ _

__“Love you too, kid.”_ _


	21. Patrick experiences a terrible haircut and Pete wonders what the hell is going on with his boyfriend, and why he won’t talk to him about it.

“Sunshine, what the _fuck_ happened to your hair?”

Patrick pulled his yellow beanie further down over his ears self-consciously. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“What- Who the hell thought you’d look good in a buzz cut?” Pete asked. “You had the cutest fucking hair in town!”

Patrick tried not to think about last night’s events of Clarence ploughing through his locks with the clippers, while Patrick sobbed and begged him to stop. He probably could have fought back if he wanted, but he needed to keep Clarence for as long as he could. None of the others would probably give him the freedom he had, to go to and from school, and to be with Pete almost 24/7. Sure, Clarence was a bastard, but Patrick could cope with the verbal barbs if it meant his freedom.

“I-It should grow back a little by the time school starts.” Patrick mumbled, looking down at his boots.

“This isn’t about when it’ll grow back, it’s about why it’s gone in the first place!” Pete hugged him tightly. “This wasn’t your decision, was it? Who the fuck cut your hair!?”

Patrick wanted to spill everything right then, but he knew he couldn’t. He didn’t want to do this to Pete. Hell, he hated having these secrets. He wanted to open his mouth and let everything out, then take Pete’s car and run away and never look back. But that wasn’t going to happen, and he stared down at his lap. “I-It’s fine, Pete. It was too long anyway. I just- I t-tried to cut it myself and I ruined it, a-and I kept trying to fix it, a-and then I just… I’m n-not allowed to cut my own hair.”

“Yeah, okay.” Pete frowned. “Hopefully it’ll grow back soon.”

“I h-hope so too.” 

Pete could tell this conversation was upsetting him, and hugged him again. “Hey, you’re still beautiful, Sunshine. Just, don’t stress about it, alright?”

“Can we, just, play some music or something?” Patrick asked.

“Course, buddy. Let’s do it.”

\------

“There we go. Muuuuuch better.” Clarence smiled, slipping the cap of wires over Patrick’s head. “See, I told you it wouldn’t be that bad. What was it Pete said? You’re still _beautiful_ , right?.”

“Y-You promised you’d stop listening!” Patrick cried out in shame, pulling his knees to his bare chest. That had been part of the deal. He’d been told the microphone was out, but clearly it was still working away.

“Well, you told me that everyone would hate you forever and they’d never want to be friends with you if you cut your hair.” Clarence shrugged. “I just wanted to see if your prediction was true. Which is wasn’t. You’ve actually managed to make some pretty decent friends, kid. God knows how.”

“Maybe it’s because I don’t stab needles into them.” Patrick growled, flinching as it went into the right side of his forehead.

“Don’t move, we’ve talked about this.” Clarence scolded. “Hold still, look away. Aaand, there. Okay, other side.”

“You know t-this really hurts, right?” Patrick tried to blink away the tears.

“It’s only for a few minutes, kid.” Was the response he got.

Patrick scowled. It wasn’t for a few minutes. It was for a few hours, monitoring the run and then the cool down and then the sleep afterwards. And they’d done it every night this week, which Patrick had only agreed to for the purpose of getting Pete something nice. He’d found a really good set of headphones at the electronics store from him, and he nearly had enough. Only 20 more bucks, and he was _praying_ he’d get that tonight.

“W-Will you take them off if I rage?” Patrick asked cautiously, hoping that Clarence had learnt from last night’s actions.

“Sorry, kid. We’ve got to have a full run-through tonight, and then Ryan’s team is coming to watch tomorrow.” Clarence wiped away a few stray drops of blood with some gauze. “So no running off tomorrow. We pass this inspection; we should be mostly left alone next year. And then hopefully no more of this. Hey, don’t move!”

Patrick exhaled softly and tried to relax. “B-Be gentle.”

“I’m always gentle.”

 _Liar_. Patrick thought. He’d seen Clarence attach this same setup with so little care that he’d stabbed Patrick in the stomach more times than he could count. There were little scars all over him to prove it.

“So, what’d you do today?” Clarence asked mindlessly, moving on from the needles to the sticky patches.

“I don’t even need to tell you. You were listening the whole time, weren’t you?!” Patrick growled.

“Seriously? I have better things to than to listen to those kissing noises.”

“Clarence!” He yelled.

“What, you don’t think they’re not listening to your relationship? It’s playing manic with your brain waves. That’s the whole reason Ryan’s even coming tomorrow.” Clarence explained. “You’ve run your best times ever these past new nights. It’s astounding. He wants to come and see it for himself.”

Patrick growled in frustration. “I don’t get any privacy!?”

“Kid, you don’t exactly have any rights.” Clarence sighed. “Look, try not to let it bother you, okay? They’re more interested in your hormone levels than how his lips feel or whatever. The only reason that you actually have any bargaining power over them is because you’re an actual nightmare to work with and could probably kill us all if you wanted.”

Patrick huffed in frustration. “I’d appreciate it if you could stop bringing that up.”

Clarence just shrugged. “How many times have you broken my nose now?”

“I-It’s not my fault I rage!” He defended. “A-And that w-was during the time you tried to t-take my treadmill a-and I just couldn’t control it!”

“Shhh. We’re not gonna get reliable data if you’re crying.” Clarence shushed. “Look, I… it sounds to me like he likes you lots? I don’t know.”

His words didn’t help, because Patrick knew there was no emotion or genuine care behind them. He just hugged his knees closer and cried for a little while, because honestly this was the worst possible thing that could have happened. People listening to him at home, that was fine. At school? Not preferable, but okay. With Pete? That was personal. That was something that was just between the two of them. Clarence, or Ryan, or anyone else, had no business monitoring or listening.

He started to feel quite ill. What had they heard? What had they monitored? Did they know who Pete was, and could they get to him? Or his family? Did they know how much they meant to Patrick? Oh, god, what if they used them as bait against him!?

“I-I’m not seeing Ryan tomorrow.” Patrick scowled finally, tearing the wires out of his skin. “I’m not doing anything for you until the stupid microphone is _gone_.”

“That’s not how this works, Patrick.”

“Screw it! I don’t care how it works!” He yelled, getting to his feet. “You want me to run in here for you?! That’s _fine_ , but you want to spy on my private time?! That’s not fine! That’s really, really not fine! If Mom were here, she’d rip your head off!”

“Well, your Mom’s not here right now, is she?!” Clarence offered in a low tone, smiling a sick grin.

Patrick hated violence, personally. There was always a better way to solve things, and he tried to avoid it at all costs. But when Clarence taunted him like that, when he took it just that step too far, he couldn’t control it. He tried not to aim for the face, he’d broken Clarence’s nose enough times already to know that never ended well, and instead just grabbed his arm and threw him straight onto the floor, like he’d done to Pete a week and a bit prior.

“YOU LITTLE SHIT!” Clarence shouted, scrambling to his feet.

“I’m not doing it! I’m not!” Patrick yelled in response, tearing more wires off and throwing them to the ground. “I’m not helping you tonight!”

“Listen here, asshole.” Clarance stood over him, trying not to focus on the pain from being thrown to the floor. “Ryan’s coming tomorrow, and he’s expecting a full week’s worth of data from me. From _you_. And you know that if Ryan gets here and is disappointed, then we’re both gonna pay. Say goodbye to school, say goodbye to music, and say goodbye to your fucking boyfriend, alright?! You’re on thin ice, so you’re gonna get on that fucking treadmill and do what they made you to do!”

“Take the microphone out and I will.” Patrick folded his arms, glaring at his guardian with the darkest look he could conjure.

Clarence just grabbed the wires that Patrick had thrown to the floor, and stabbed one straight back into his head, ignoring his cry of pain. “You _are_ going to run tonight, hear me? You don’t get a choice in this. You’re not like the rest of the kids from school, you’re _mine_ and you’re going to do exactly what Ryan designed you to do.”

“I _am_ human!” Patrick exclaimed in frustration. 

Clarence scoffed, and shoved him back onto the bench as he collected the wires. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Patrick sat, seething with anger, and just stared at his lap while Clarence went back to hooking everything up. He needed to stay with Pete, and needed to stay at school. He just needed to pass this one stupid inspection tomorrow, and then it would all work out. He would run tonight, but just for Pete’s sake. That was all. After the stupid inspection, he wouldn’t do it anymore. He’d have enough cash for Christmas presents, and then everything would be fine.

“Hold still!” Clarence scolded, pining his arm down while he reattached the wires.

“I really hate you, you know?” Patrick scowled in response.

“Uh huh. The feeling’s mutual.” Clarence stabbed the needle in and taped it in place. “They don’t pay me enough to put up with your shit.”

Patrick just bit his tongue and tried not to throw him against the floor again.  
When it was finally time to get up on the treadmill, he clenched his fists. “H-How much for a new best?”

“You give me a new best tonight, I’ll chuck you 20.” Clarence responded, adjusting the dials on his side of the control panel. “But you hit me again and it’s nothing.”

“Fine.” Patrick seethed.

Once again, it started slow, then faster and faster and faster. Patrick just bit down on his lip, practicing how many swear words he could pronounce in zulu in his head. And then he pictured how it would feel to yell out all of them to Clarence, before throwing him on the ground again and again and again.

He was so caught up he didn’t notice the monitors going off, buzzing and making all sorts of alarmed noises as he forced himself to go faster and faster and faster. He was so caught up, he didn’t even notice Clarence’s surprised, and slightly terrified, expression as he pushed the dial closer and closer to the maximum speed.

When the hour was over, Patrick was actually tired, a feeling he didn’t experience pretty often. He poured some water into his mouth, and then over his shoulders to try and cool his body temperature back down. “New best?” He asked hopefully.

“Kid, you ran twice as fast as you did last night.” Clarence stammered, his face pale. “Maybe I need to swear at you more often.”

Patrick scowled, and took another gulp of water. “I want my 20.”

“You can have it tomorrow.” He shrugged. “ _After_ Ryan’s visit. So that way I’ll know you behave.”

“Clarence!” Patrick cried out in frustration. “I need that! I only have tomorrow to get the presents and then it’s Christmas eve and they’ll probably be sold!”

“Then you better hope that the meeting goes quickly, won’t you?”

“I hate you.” Patrick huffed, turning away to face the wall.

“The feeling’s mutual, kid.”

\-------

_Patrick, 2:49am: I’m not coming over tomorrow sorry. Clarence and I are going to visit my grandma._

Pete stared at the text when he woke up, confused. Patrick hadn’t not come over in weeks. He considered a response for a while, testing out what he could respond with. Obviously the was the ‘okay, cool, have fun’, but that didn’t sound right. Then there was the ‘hope you have a good time’ and all variations. Then he started to wonder what response he’d get if he asked ‘why?’ Patrick would probably explain that it was only 2 days until Christmas and that was why, so there wasn’t really a point to that.

But Pete couldn’t shake the feeling in his stomach that there was something a little fishy about this.

_Pete: I love you. Have a good time. Call me if you need anything <3_

Patrick had been off all week, he’d decided. Sure, he was still his happy, bubbly yellow self during all the family activities, and when they’d kissed and all that, but Pete had noticed the disquiet on his face whenever he saw his terrible haircut in the mirror, and how funny he’d gotten when Pete had touched the small scab on his forehead.

There was definitely something going on, and it wasn’t a great thing to think about. They were meant to be going to Brendon’s Christmas get-together tonight anyway. Would be back by then?

Pete just sighed and laid back on his bed. He’d have to have a serious discussion with his boyfriend next time they met. He thought they’d reached that point in their relationship, where they could tell each other everything and rely on each other. It seemed perfect, until Patrick would pull something like this, and everything would be up in the air again.

It was about 11 when Dale poked her head in. “Where’s Patrick today?”

“Visiting his Grandma.” Pete mused quietly, looking up from his poetry book. “I don’t know. That’s what he told me.”

“You think he’s lying?”

“Do you think he’s been acting funny this week, Mom?” Pete questioned. “I mean, even before the haircut. I think there’s something going on, but I really don’t know what it is.”

“So you’ve noticed too.” She murmured. “I don’t know, he hadn’t told me anything. I’m just worried about him.”

“Me too, Mom.” Pete sighed. “We were gonna go to Brendon’s thing tonight. Hopefully he’s back by then. I’ll talk to him.”

“Good.” Dale ruffled his hair. “Do you want some lunch?”

“That’d be lovely.” He smiled, getting up and following her to the kitchen, blissfully unaware of Patrick’s surroundings at that point in time.


	22. Patrick survives the inspection and Pete starts to wonder if everything he think he’s knows about Patrick is true.

People like Clarence came and went, but Ryan had been a part of Patrick’s life since he was born. And even before that. His Mother had explained to him when he was younger that without Dr Ryan, then he wouldn’t have ever been born. And he certainly wouldn’t have had any of the talents that he was sporting under his belt.

That probably explained why Dr Ryan had always treated Patrick with the most respect. Even if Patrick was running around and screaming and biting and kicking (He didn’t really do that much anymore, but it was quite common when he was younger), Dr Ryan was the one who approached him in a calm manner and managed to calm him down. And then he’d yell at whoever had locked the treadmill room, and then occasionally buy Patrick a new pair of yellow shoes to apologise.

Other than his parents and his brother and Pete, Patrick would probably say that Dr Ryan was the only person who really loved him. He didn’t know whether that was because he’d practically raised him, or because he was ‘his greatest creation’, but it was a nice change from Clarence none-the-less. And unlike most of the doctors that Patrick saw, Dr Ryan would always take his side.

Not that he intended to start any arguments with Clarence during today’s visit. Clarence was, by far, the worst guardian that Patrick had ever had, but that was a good thing. He cared so little about what he was meant to be doing that he essentially let Patrick do whatever the hell he wanted, besides the running in the basement. If Ryan found out about that, Clarence would be fired practically instantly. So he just had to sing him praises today, despite the fact that saying Clarence was like a second father to him made him feel sick to his stomach.

“You’re gonna behave when Ryan gets here?” Clarence asked over their breakfast of pancakes that Patrick had cooked.

“Are you?” Patrick spat back, reaching for the maple syrup.

“You’re a real brat sometimes, you know that?” He muttered. “But you can cook. Who taught you how to make pancakes like this?”

“Pete’s Mom.” Patrick told him flatly.

“Ah, yes. The lady you practically live with. Do you pay rent?” Clarence chuckled. “I mean, you eat all their food. Hell, I didn’t even need to leave you grocery money last time I went away.”

Patrick clenched his fist under the table. As much as he wanted to reignite this argument and scream abuse at Clarence for leaving him alone to starve, he couldn’t get into it right now. He needed Clarence to say the right things to Ryan so their weird relationship could continue.

Patrick couldn’t fathom what what happen if Clarence got taken away, and replaced. Would he be able to go to Pete’s house every afternoon? What about on the weekends? What if they forced Patrick to run every night? He couldn’t do that, not with all those stupid wires. It seemed every time he had to get on that treadmill, there was another wire, something new they had to measure.

He hoped they’d realise that if they let him run without any of that, he could probably run a hell of a lot faster.

As long as Clarence was here, he had his freedom. There was no way in hell that Patrick was prepared to give that up at the moment.

“So, you’re gonna tell him about what a great parent I am to you?” Clarence eyed him carefully while putting the rest of the pancakes on his own plate, despite the fact he’d eaten 4 by now and Patrick was only on his 2nd.

“Yeah.” Patrick breathed. “What quality bonding stuff did we do?”

“We went to the zoo.” Clarence corrected.

“Ah, yeah.” Patrick nodded. “And we watch TV together every night and eat breakfast together.”

Clarence nodded. “What’s the one thing you’d improve about me if you could?”

“You’d be a little gentler with the needles.” Patrick shrugged. “It works because it’s something that’ll hurt no matter what, so there’s less blame on you. What’s your one peeve about me?”

“The fact you keep breaking my nose, but other than that, probably the fact that you’re a stubborn little brat.”

Patrick shook his head in disapproval. “You need better wording. I’m stubborn, but you still love the fact that you can get through to me sometimes.”

Clarence huffed. “My point proven.”

Patrick sighed. There wasn’t really a lot he could do in return to Clarence right now, not when they were meant to be on the same team during Ryan’s visit. He just shoved the rest of the pancake into his mouth and got up, heading back to his room to run off his frustrations before the inspection started. He’d changed into his good running shoes and was about to get started when Clarence barged in and pulled him off the treadmill.

“No.”

“ _No?!_ ” Patrick pushed him off. “You don’t get to tell me no!”

“Ryan does. And he told me no running this morning, at least not before he gets here.” Clarence told him firmly. “He thinks it’ll make you faster.”

“Faster?! It’ll just make me break your nose again!” Patrick huffed at him. “You know what happens when you don’t let me run!”

“It’s not my choice, kid.” He grunted, taking the key from the treadmill and burying it in his pocket. “Just stay away from me.”

“I’m not going to hurt you!”

“You said yourself. You don’t know what’s gonna happen.” Clarence walked out of the door quickly, and Patrick could see the fear in those footsteps “Stay out of the basement, and don’t leave the house.”

The two hours between breakfast and Ryan’s arrival were two of the most painful hours in Patrick’s life. Well, every hour was painful when they took his treadmill away. It just sat there, in the corner of his room, staring him down and taunting him. He tried to ignore it, distact himself with his books, then with his computer, and finally he sat at his window, trying to focus on playing his guitar and not the fact that his fingers were twitching and trying to sit still was absolutely driving him to insanity.

He wished Pete was here. Actually, no, he wished he was where Pete was. He didn’t ever want Pete here, seeing this side of himself. It was almost as if he was two people, and he certainly preferred the one that went to school and had his Pete and was just a kid – even if he had a couple of college degrees. 

But it seemed every day Pete was clawing through, seeing a little more of his other side that Patrick was trying so hard to keep hidden. He didn’t want his boyfriend caught up in this web – it was bad enough that Patrick had to deal with it. He couldn’t fathom the thought of anyone else going through what he went through.

His mother used to talk about the experiment with terrible disdain – clearly distraught when she explained that Patrick had been the only one that survived out of the 100 in the trial. Even though Patrick would never say this aloud, especially not to his mother, but he was incredibly glad of that fact. What life was this for any kid? They’d been stripped of their rights to do things that other kids did – like going to school and making friends. Thank god he was the only one who’d survived. Well, if he had it his way, he probably wouldn’t have survived either.

But then again, there was Pete, and he did have school now, and Patrick supposed that made life worth living. For the moment, at least.

His hands trembled, the song he was playing stopped abruptly, and Patrick swore under his breath. _Who the hell does Clarence think he is, taking away the key? He knows for a fact that it hurts. Why would Ryan even demand something like that? He’s always been the one who’s fought for me to have constant access to one. Now he just wants me to sit here and suffer._

So he turned to pacing. He walked laps around the house, careful not to run because then Clarence would probably get mad and he couldn’t get Clarence mad right now. Not to mention that Clarence still had that 20 bucks from last nights run, and he _needed_ that.

By the time that Ryan arrived with his junior doctors, Patrick was just about ready to punch a hole in the wall. He ran to his guardian and begged, pleaded to just attach him to all the wires as fast as he possibly could and let him just _run_.

Ryan was never the type of person to do things quickly, however, and just smiled. “My, how you’ve grown!”

“P-Please, Ryan!” Patrick pleaded, clenching his fists tightly. “Just, h-hurry!”  
The junior doctor to his right looked downright terrified, and Patrick just had to wonder about what she’d been briefed with. Sometimes the easiest way to get through to Ryan was through those he was with, and so he turned to her and continued pleading his case. “P-Please, it h-hurts, and C-Clarence took my treadmill a-and it’s just s-so bad right n-now!”

“Patrick, darling, don’t scare them.” Ryan chuckled softly, taking the boy’s hand in his own and gently caressing his cheek. “I haven’t seen you in months. Let’s go down and wire you up and have a little chat.”

Well, that was better than nothing, so Patrick just nodded and dragged them down to the basement, kicking Clarence’s door to wake him up on the way. The junior doctor’s just looked terrified, but that was nothing that Patrick wasn’t used to by now. All junior doctors were scared of him. Hell, Clarence was jumpy whenever he was around Patrick for at least the first 2 months of their weird relationship.

The two stood in the corner of the basement and looked around at the setup, part in horror and part in awe. Patrick just rushed to his bench in the corner, and took his shirt off. “J-Just hurry, R-Ryan!”

Ryan was always calm about these things, and pulled a stool over, before smiling down at his creation. “How long has it been since you ran?”

“Breakfast.” Patrick scratched at his arm frantically. “J-Just, hurry!”

“Patrick, it’s only nine.” Ryan’s brows furrowed and he grabbed his stethoscope.

“I-It’s gotten so much worse! I-It’s so bad Ryan!” He cried out, his feet kicking and his heart pumping and his hand scratching and everything just going and going and going.

“Hmm.” Ryan hummed softly. “Alright, let’s get you set up. Then we’ll talk more about this.”

Thank god. Patrick didn’t hate talking with Ryan about when his little ‘quirks’ were getting better or worse, but he couldn’t do it right now when all he could feel was this pain and this spiralling. Ryan really, _really_ had to hurry, or he couldn’t guarantee the safety of the junior doctors in the room.

“Alright, little pinch just there.” Ryan was a lot gentler than Clarence with the wires, but Patrick was biting his lip and trying not to scream at him to just hurry hurry hurry before he hurt someone. 

It was all going reasonably well, and Patrick hadn’t lashed out, until Ryan got to the scar on his neck. “What happened here?”

“C-Clarence, with the wires a-and I flinched.” Patrick rasped, letting go of the breath he’d been holding. It wasn’t true, obviously, that was the cut that Dale had taken him to the hospital to get stitched up. But he didn’t have time to get into that, he just needed Ryan to hurry the goddamn process up already.

He hoped that Ryan would just make a note of it and continue with the process, and just give Patrick a break from this hell, but instead the old professor immediately got out of chair and left to find the man Patrick had accused of causing the scar.

Patrick didn’t approach junior doctors very often, but he wasn’t this desperate very often either. Screw it, it didn’t matter whether all the wires were attached or not. He just needed 5 minutes on full speed, just something to get this _itch_ gone. He tore the ones already in to the floor, and sprinted to the treadmill. _C’mon, c’mon, just speed up._

He could just tell the junior doctors were staring at him, but he didn’t care about that right now. He adjusted the dials and was about to press his finger to the start button when one of the junior doctors grabbed his arm and pulled him off.

Patrick wasn’t a violent person. He never wanted to hurt anybody. But when he was in these moments, it was beyond his control, and his reaction was as surprised as the other junior doctor’s when he turned and threw his fist straight into this girl’s nose. Then there was just that sickly _crunch_ that Patrick was far too familiar with, and she fell to the ground, screaming clutching her face.

“I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Patrick’s eyes widened and he ran to help her, but she just screamed and told him to get away. The other doctor had her hands up to protect herself as well, and Patrick just curled up on the cold cement floor to cry, his knuckles still covered in red from the punch to the doctor’s face.

He hadn’t been able to control it, but that was hardly the point. Was he ever going to be able to stop hurting people? It was all Patrick had known. He never wanted it, and was racked with guilt every time his father had a new cast on his arm or his mother covered her black eye with heavy make-up. Hell, he was completely sure that he was the sole reason his brother moved out of home at 16.

Everyone he met described Patrick as a lovely kid, who was polite and wanted to make people smile. But as soon as his treadmill was taken, or he couldn’t find a way to get rid of this stupid urge inside him all the time, he lashed out. And god, he hated himself for it.

By the time Ryan got back with Clarence, the doctor that Patrick had punched was sobbing in the corner, with the other doctor trying to help her. The wires that Ryan had spent the last 20 minutes meticulously putting on now lay all over the floor, and Patrick was just curled up in the middle of the room in a ball of sobs.

Clarence just sighed, and picked the wires back up. “C’mon kid, we gotta start over now.”

“I-I’m sorry!” Patrick cried out, digging his fingers into his scalp. “I-I didn’t wanna h-hurt anyone b-but she p-pulled me away from the t-treadmill a-and!”

“Patrick, darling…” Ryan walked over and sat beside him, gently rubbing his back affectionately. “It’s all alright. I’m sorry for the deprivation, I just wanted to see how you went with it considering you’ve been doing so well, lately. Clarence tells me you’ve been managing at least 18 _hours_.”

“Y-Yeah, but I-I’m at school, a-and doing things with Pete…” Patrick wiped his nose on his arm.

At the mention of Pete’s name, Ryan’s eyes lit up brightly. “You have a boyfriend now, correct?”

“Y-you’ve been listening, haven’t you?” Patrick’s voice was flat with disappointment, already knowing the answer to his question.

“Well, we had to learn a little bit about those sudden bursts of dopamine and increased waves without any intellectual challenging activities…” Ryan offered apologetically, although he felt no remorse for his actions. “We just wanna see how it’s helping you to see if we can recreate that without the need to be with your boyfriend. Imagine if you could sit at home without running for that long? How good would that be?”

Patrick imagined that would be incredibly boring, but then realised that meant he’d probably actually be able to sleep for once in his life, and nodded glumly.

“Do you forgive me, darling?” Ryan asked, taking the boy’s hand in his own.  
“Y-yeah.” Patrick mumbled. Ryan asked him that all the time. Whenever Ryan ordered some kind of test that was incredibly demanding or caused Patrick pain, he’d wait until it was over, explain why he’d done it and then asked if Patrick forgave him. Ever since he was old enough to realise what was going on. It had just become routine to say yes, even if he didn’t fully believe what he was saying.

Ryan just kissed Patrick softly on the forehead, and helped him to his feet before walking him back to the bench. That was when Patrick noticed how pale Clarence was looking right now, and how he was currently staring at the scar dotting Patrick’s collarbone.

Maybe his quick cover-up wasn’t as good of an idea as it had been in the moment. But to be fair, in the moment he’d been desperate. He was still itching for a run right now, but that goddamn punch had really taken the edge off and he could breathe and relax a tiny bit now.

“Patrick, darling, tell me how that happened.” Ryan demanded coldly, staring straight at Clarence.

“U-Um… he was hooking up the n-needles and then I, I flinched and it tore my skin a little…”

“Sorry, what?” Clarence asked, clearly bewildered. “You came home from your boyfriend’s house one day with that. That wasn’t my doing. The little one on his stomach, that was me, but I never cause anything as big as that.”

“Who’s telling the truth?” Ryan turned to Patrick, his gaze cold and serious.

“U-um…” Patrick was never really very good under pressure. “Me…”

“Clarence, this was your third and final warning. You’re fired.”

“What?!” Patrick panicked. “No!”

“We only have one of him!” Ryan yelled. “And I _told_ you, on your very first day, the number one most important thing that we live by here is that we don’t damage the specimen! What would happen if you ‘slipped’ while putting in one near his head, huh?!”

“I-It was an accident, Ryan!” Patrick tugged on his hand. “It w-wasn’t his fault, he was d-doing his best but I was being difficult! Don’t s-send him away! Please!”

“Darling, he _hurt_ you. I don’t care whether it was an accident or not, it’s not tolerated.”

Patrick, in sheer desperation, did something he swore that he’d never do. He jumped up from his bench, ran to Clarence, and wrapped him in a gentle hug. It wasn’t very comfortable, and Clarence was very, very tense, but Patrick just used it as leverage to continue trying to convince Ryan that he needed his guardian to stay.

They went back and forth for ages but Patrick was always the one who came out on top. He’d known Ryan long enough now to know what his weak spots were, and how to get what he wanted out of him. It was hard to hide his smile when Ryan gritted his teeth and finally agreed that Clarence could stay, but was on _very thin ice_.

They returned to the menial task of applying the wires, when Patrick’s foot began to spin in circles. He didn’t notice it as first, but when his hands began to shake, he frowned and tried to focus on sitting still. It had been less than half an hour since he’d punched that girl, how could it have worked it’s way back up to twitching this soon?

Ryan seemed to notice as well, and hummed softly in confusion. “You’re spiralling again.”

“J-Just, hurry…” Patrick murmured, watching his hand. He’d already hurt one person today, and wasn’t exactly eager for his tally to climb.

By the time he was all connected and allowed to move to the treadmill, his whole body was shaking. His eyes were darting around, his heart pumping quickly in his chest and his fingers clenching together. He wasn’t at breaking point yet, the point where it starting physically hurting, but he was starting to get fairly desperate for them to turn the damn machine on and let him run it off.

As normal, it started slow. Then faster, and faster, and faster he went. He needed a new best, or to at least match yesterday’s run. That’s what Ryan wanted, right? So he tried to focus on the things that made him go faster. Swearing in many different languages at Clarence, his mother, but most importantly, Pete.

Going out for milkshakes with Pete. Sitting in music class with Pete. Lying around together in Pete’s bedroom. Going to the movies with Pete and sharing a box of popcorn. Pete looking after him when he was sick. Kissing Pete.

Half the monitors in the room had started beeping, their readings reaching measurements that hadn’t ever been measured before. The treadmill just went faster and faster and faster, but Patrick just went faster still. Ryan just sat there, a sinister smile on his face as he watching Patrick break yet again another record.

\----------

It wasn’t the most sanitary set-up in the world, but Patrick wasn’t really too bothered about that right now.

He’d found himself a relatively quiet public restroom, and now armed with a kid’s metal detector he’d found at the dollar store and his father’s swiss army knife, it was finally time to get rid of this stupid microphone.

He thought he’d gotten it out last time, but clearly he’d missed something. Ryan had pelted him with questions about things he’d done with Pete, and used quotes that Pete had definitely told him within the last couple of weeks. So there was another one in him, and it was coming out. Today.

He was meant to be going to the group’s Christmas thing tonight, anyway. But there was no way in hell he was going if it meant that every single one of them was going to be recorded and sent back to Ryan and his associates. Patrick acknowledged that sure, this was meant to help him, but he could relay information as well as any other person, and just wanted some damn privacy for once in his life.

Spending time with his friends and with Pete was meant to be his personal time. He shouldn’t have to share that with anyone. And from this day forward, he wasn’t going to.

He ran the metal detector over himself, listening for when it went off. Nothing around his neck, nothing on his face or chest or arms. In fact, the only moment it did go off was the back of his right shoulder.

Those assholes. He should’ve known they’d want to put it somewhere where he couldn’t see it. But when he pressed his fingers down into a soft spot, yep, there it was. A tiny little bump, buried deep beneath the surface where they hoped he’d never find them.

He washed his father’s knife under the water in the bathroom, and held his breath as he dug it into his skin. God, it hurt. So, so, bad. He cried out in pain as he dug his fingers into the wound, but it was all made worth it as he found the little piece of metal, and pulled it free.

It was tiny, smaller than his fingernail, but the little piece of technology had a little blinking green light that told Patrick he hadn’t broken it yet. And as much as he wanted to squish it to pieces in his hands, he couldn’t arouse any suspicion that it was gone. As soon as it stopped emitting a signal, then they’d just fly Patrick straight back to California to put another one in. So he just shoved it into his pocket and went back to treating the wound on his back.

It was spewing blood, _of course it was_ , and Patrick swore to himself as he nervously felt the size of it. He couldn’t do this himself, he didn’t bring enough thread for something this big, not to mention it was at a spot where he couldn’t see it.

He swore he wouldn’t do this to Pete and Dale again, not after everything they’d done for him. But dammit, did he have another choice? He couldn’t go home to Clarence with a wound there – he’d realise exactly what had happened and rat him out to Ryan straight away.

What was it he’d told Pete anyway? That stupid story about the gang. He huffed in frustration, it was the lamest and worst cover story he could’ve come up with, but it was what he’d told his brother and therefore needed to keep consistency between the two. Especially now that Pete had Kevin’s number.

But this didn’t look like a stab wound, this looked like a surgical wound. Dale was getting smarter, she seemed to realise that something wasn’t quite right. So he grabbed his knife, washed it off under the water, and slashed it further down his back.

He screamed in pain and swore in several languages, but it didn’t really matter because now it looked relatively like he’d been attacked, and that meant he could ask Dale for help.

The blood was oozing fast as he ran, dripping down the back of his shirt and over his jeans as well. He’d abandoned his metal detector in the public bathroom, but kept ahold of his father’s knife. He dropped it into a nearby bush as he ran up the steps to Pete’s front door, and pounded on the wood several times, starting to get quite dizzy from the blood loss.

The door opening and Pete’s shocked face were the last things he saw before he passed out.


	23. Patrick regrets everything but doesn’t stop building his web of lies, and Pete’s just glad that it’s finally Christmas and everything is perfect for one whole day.

Patrick regretted everything when he woke up in hospital.

Pete was there. Pete was _always_ there, and took his hand when Patrick woke up with a sudden jolt and realised where he was. Pete was there when he started hyperventilating, and Pete was there to talk some actual sense into him when his flashbacks compelled him to jump the bedrail and just run as far away from this stupid hospital as he possibly could.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay Sunshine, relax.” Pete grabbed his shoulders, being mindful of the bandages on his back. “It’s okay buddy, you’re okay, I’m here.”

“I-I’m in the hospital…” His voice trembled as he spoke, and Pete just tightened his grip on his hand. “I-I… I c-can’t, I don’t…”

“You were attacked again, remember? You’re hurt, you can’t leave right now.” Pete offered slowly. “You lost a lot of blood and you had to get a lot of stitches in your back. It wasn’t pretty…”

Pete trailed off, thinking back to the moment. Patrick had passed out on his front door, and even though Pete had dove to catch him, he’d smashed his head against the tiles and then there was blood coming from both his back and his face. Hillary was yelling, Andrew was freaking out, Dale had put pressure on the biggest wound and Pete Senior had driven them to the hospital (And had since acquired a speeding ticket for that). Patrick had laid on Pete’s lap the entire car ride, drifting in and out of consciousness and occasionally quietly murmured his mother’s name. It had been a terrifying ordeal, for everyone involved, and Pete never wanted to go through it again.

Patrick didn’t remember any of that, but he certainly did remember that he wasn’t attacked at all. But he couldn’t let Pete know that, at least not right now. Right now, Patrick needed to protect him. Keep him safe from Ryan and all the others. So that just meant he had to play the part of the dumb kid right now.

But that was okay. Patrick had played that part so many times he could deliever an Oscar-winning performance from nothing. Pete squeezed his hand again, his eyes dotted with so much sadness and worry after seeing his boyfriend in this position. “You hit your head pretty bad, too….”

“I did?” Patrick moved his spare arm and sure enough, there appeared to be a bandaid of some sorts on his forehead. “Oh.”

“Concussion.” Pete told him. “The doctors were kinda shocked at how fast it cleared up though.”

_That’s just because these stupid doctors don’t know that they can’t treat me the same way that they treat everyone else._

“Yeah.” Patrick ran his finger over the band-aid until it stung and he pulled his hand away. “How many stitches?”

“Eighteen…”

“Oh.”

“Mmmm.” Pete murmured. “Dude, you really gotta stop doing this. It gives me a fucking heart attack every single time, okay?! Every single time you like, nearly die in my arms and it’s terrifying.”

“I’m not dead, though.” Patrick defended. 

“You came pretty fucking close, Sunshine.” Pete told him sternly, folding his arms. “Look, if you’re ever gonna go visit your Mom’s grave or whatever, do it during the day, or just don’t fucking go alone, all right? I’m happy to come, or just like, protect you or whatever. Hell, if you get lonely and sad at night, I’d prefer it a million times to one if you just came over and climbed into bed with me rather than showing up covered in blood again. So, deal?”

“What? No, I didn’t agree to anything.” Patrick folded his arms as well, but winced as soon as he did due to the strain it put on his stitches. “I just, I do what I gotta do, okay? It’s just… I know you wanna help, but there’s some things I just, I gotta do alone, okay Pete?”

“Yeah, that’s fine, but not when it’s hurting you like this!” Pete exclaimed. “What am I meant to do if one day you show up on my doorstep bleeding and I don’t answer it because I’m asleep? What if I can’t get you to a hospital fast enough and you bleed out in my arms?!” He rubbed his face in frustration. “You’re the only thing I’ve got keeping me sane, Sunshine… I need you, just, I need you to be there and I need you to be okay because you’re everything to me.”

“You’ve got your family.” Patrick responded, cursing stupid tears that sprung to his eyes whenever he thought about stupid emotional things like this. “That’s more than me.”

“Well, yeah, but they’re not, they’re not you!” He stumbled over his words. “You’re just, you’re my best friend and I haven’t had a friend outside of my family since middle school and I can’t lose that! My parents love me, b-but they’re not, they’re not someone I can play music with and see movies with and kiss and cuddle on the couch while we watch stupid Christmas movies, a-and-“

Pete was cut off by the fact that Patrick had burst into tears. It was startling – Patrick wasn’t one to just cry like that. These weren’t light tears, these sobs were racked with nothing but pure misery and grief, and Pete’s heart sunk in his chest. The boy sitting in front of him was his boyfriend, sure, but he was also just a kid. And that kid had lost everything in his 14 years of life. He’d lost his father first, then his mother, his sister before he was even born and now his brother was gone to the other side of the country. What did he have? A stepfather who really didn’t seem to care about him all that much, and a boyfriend who was telling him that his problems were so very much worse.

“I’m sorry, Sunshine…” Pete murmured, taking him into his arms and not complaining when Patrick hugged him so tightly he could hardly breathe. “Shhhhh. It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

“I w-was just t-trying to protect you!” Patrick cried out, burying his face in Pete’s shoulder. 

“Protect me? Sunshine, buddy, you don’t need to protect me. You just need to stop going, okay? At night. Just so you protect _yourself_.”

Patrick didn’t correct him. Although maybe it was true, maybe he did need to protect himself a little more. But how was he even supposed to do that when Ryan and Clarence were breathing down his back and demanding more of him? The more records he broke, the faster he could run, the more complicated equations he could solve – the more data they wanted. It was a vicious cycle, and he was really starting to wonder how he was going to break it.

It was that moment that Patrick remembered his friends, and pulled away from Pete with eyes wide. “T-The Christmas thing, at Brendon’s house!”

Pete took a moment, but awkwardly bit his lip. “Sunshine, you slept through that. It’s um… it’s Christmas eve.”

“What?” He looked to the clock on the wall, and sure enough, sitting there was the date blinking back at him. December 24.

“Yeah.” Pete breathed. “Merry Christmas, Sunshine…”

“What are you doing here, then?!” He panicked. “Why aren’t you at home with your family?! Hell, it’s…” He checked the clock. “4 in the afternoon! You gotta, go be with them and stuff!”

“You’re family too.” Pete took his hand. “I wasn’t leaving you alone today.”

“You gotta go!” Patrick shoved him gently. “Go be with your family! I’m fine, I promise, just don’t waste your time here!”

“I’m not going until they discharge you.” Pete folded his arms and smiled at his boyfriend.

“B-But, your Mom is making a nice dinner and your Dad is h-home for the first time in forever, and t-they love you and they want you t-there and!”

“Shhh.” Pete shushed him. “Sunshine, I’m not leaving you right now, okay? There’s nothing you can tell me that’ll make me leave.”

“Then they have to discharge me.” Patrick told him sternly, stabbing his finger on the nurse call button.

It only took a few minutes, and Pete just watched as Patrick gave her a script that he seemed to have prepared. He answered every possible question about how he was doing before she even had the chance to ask. Then he delivered a relatively similar speech to a doctor, got himself a prescription for some painkillers, and ended up discharged within the hour.

“Sometimes I forget how smart you are, ya’know?” Pete muttered, walking him out to the car. “How the, how in the world do you even manipulate the medical system like that? You know you’re not ready to be discharged yet.”

“Small price to pay.” Patrick forced a smile.

Pete just noticed his chattering teeth, and stripped his jacket and placed it around Patrick’s shoulders. “What, your health for my Christmas dinner?”

“Uh huh.” Patrick nodded, taking the jacket gratefully and slipping his arms through the sleeves, the tips of his fingers only just peeking out the end. “You have such long arms.”

“No, I think you’re just tiny.” Pete chuckled, putting an arm around him. “Now, you gotta come for dinner or Mom’s gonna lose her shit at me. Sound good?”

“I got you presents.” Patrick blurted out. “I, I need to run home and get changed, and grab some things and then I’ll be back.”

“That’s okay, we can swing by your place.” Pete nodded, unlocking his car and climbing into the driver’s seat. The warmth from the heater as soon as they moving was such a relief, especially considering that Patrick still had his coat.

“Just drop me at the school, I can run home and Clarence can drop me back at yours.”

“Seriously? It’s _freezing_ outside, Sunshine.” Pete told him. “You’re still gonna make me drop you at the school?”

“It’s seriously not far, Pete.” Patrick responded, sitting on the edge of the chair as to not put any pressure on his stitches. They were seriously starting to hurt him, but he didn’t dare say anything to worry Pete. Pete seemed worried enough without Patrick arising more suspicion.

“You know you’re like, super weird, right?” Pete murmured. “I haven’t ever met anyone like you.”

“I haven’t met anyone like you, either.” Patrick dug his hands into his pockets and sighed. “Look, I… you remember the first day I came to your house and you got really annoyed because you didn’t like new people where you lived?”

“Yeah, but I got over that.”

“Yeah, but Clarence won’t.” He muttered. “If I tell you something, can you promise not to freak out?”

Pete frowned for a second, trying to figure out what exactly that could be before nodding hesitantly. “Of course, Sunshine.”

“Um… so, like, um… Clarence isn’t my stepdad.”

“What? So like, who do you live with then?”

“Clarence. He’s just, he never met my mother and I just, yeah.”

“So, what? You’re in state custody? He’s like a foster father or something?” Pete questioned, starting to feel a little worse about how he’d treated Patrick in regards to his home situation.

Patrick just sighed, there was no hiding things now. “You know, um, like, my conception or whatever. Pete, I’m, I’m not like, a _person_. I don’t know, I’m _property_. I belong to the US military.”

“Of course you’re a fucking person, Sunshine.” Pete quickly assured him. “Anyone who says you aren’t is wrong. You’re living and breathing and a person and you go to school and have a passport and all that. You don’t belong to anyone.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Patrick muttered. “Clarence, he’s um… he’s like a military doctor. And he, like, runs a lot of tests and stuff, and, yeah…” 

“So what, they treat you like a fucking lab rat?! That’s disgusting!”

“No, no.” Patrick sighed and rested his head back. “They, they can’t do anything I don’t consent to. But they kinda rely on me to do the things they want and they use the data for some stuff. He just, he doesn’t let me have anyone over. And because it’s like, a national military secret that you’re not really meant to know, I’m not allowed to tell you where I live.”

“Fucking hell.” Pete muttered, pulling into the school. “That’s really fucking weird.”

Patrick just looked down at his hands, not having the heart to tell Pete he was lying.

\---------

When Patrick arrived for Christmas dinner, he was unrecognizable to the person who had been discharged from hospital less than an hour earlier. He was wearing his full yellow ensemble of boots and yellow jeans and his yellow Christmas sweater that Dale had bought him, with his yellow coat to top it off and a little yellow beanie topping his head. He wore a very proud smile, clearly pleased that he was here, and Pete just looked at him in disbelief.

“Do you like, use yellow to mask the pain or whatever?” Pete murmured, welcoming him inside and out of the cold.

“No, I just turn it up when I feel deprived of it. They really need to offer yellow hospital gowns.” Patrick giggled, handing Pete his coat back and hanging his own up. 

Pete chuckled at that, and kissed his boyfriend’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, Sunshine.”

“Merry Christmas, Pete.”

Pete noticed he wasn’t lying when he said that he had presents. For Dale and Hillary, he had two bunches of flowers, tied with yellow ribbon, which he placed under the tree. For Pete senior and Andrew, he’d baked cookies, each one decorated with an insanely detailed snowflake pattern, and had wrapped the two bundles of baked goods in yellow cellophane. Pete’s was the only wrapped one, a box wrapped in yellow paper and tied with a bow at the top. Patrick smiled widely at him when he placed it under the tree, clearly proud of it.

“You really didn’t have to get me anything, Sunshine.” Pete put his arm around him. “I know that money’s tight for you and stuff.”

“I did a couple of odd jobs.” Patrick smiled in reply. “And I wanted to. You’re… all I’ve got. I wanted to do something special.”

“ _You_ are something special.” Pete pulled him close and pressed a kiss to his lips.

It didn’t last very long, they were interrupted by Hillary announcing that dinner was ready, but it was lovely none the less. Patrick’s cheeks turned bright red, his eyes wide in wonderment and awe. Pete just chuckled, and put his arm around him to take him to the dinner table.

The roast was amazing, not that Pete expected anything else. Dale and Pete senior made light, happy conversation and it seemed the whole family was just in good spirits. Patrick was glad to be there, wearing a genuine smile and seemed relaxed during the entire meal. 

It wasn’t until the meal was nearly finished and Pete and his siblings were clearing the table and doing the dishes when he overhead the discussion.  
Dale and Pete senior had relocated to the lounge, and taken Patrick to have a little chat. He seemed nervous about it, but Dale always just had that Mom way of speaking to him that put him at ease. “Ricky, sweetheart, do you want to stay here tonight?”

“Sorry?” Patrick echoed, his words laced with confusion.

“Stay here, with us tonight.” Pete Senior put his arm around his wife. “We’re not going to ask questions, but everyone deserves to have a safe place to stay for Christmas. And if that place can’t be your home, we’re more than happy to open ours to you tonight.”

“A-Are you sure?”

“Of course we are sweetheart.” Dale assured him. “You’re more than welcome to stay.”

Pete missed the response thanks to his annoying brother shoving a pile of plates at him to wash up, but when he looked next Patrick was crying and Dale was hugging him, quietly assuring him that it was okay and he was more than welcome to stay the night whenever he needed. 

By god, Patrick loved this family.

\----------

Sure, they’d given Patrick the spare bed, but as some point during the night he moved and crawled in beside Pete. When Pete woke up on the 25th of December, Patrick was in his bed beside him, quietly reading one of his many poetry books while waiting for the rest of the family to wake up.

“Merry Christmas, Sunshine.” Pete yawned, stretching his arms in the air.

Patrick smiled and closed his book, snuggling right up to his boyfriend. “Merry Christmas.”

“Sleep well?” Pete asked sleepily.

“Uh huh. I like your bed.”

“Is that because it’s comfortable or because I’m in it?”

Patrick giggled and went bright red. “A little bit of both.”

Pete just pulled him closer and rested his chin on the top of Patrick’s head. “I guess I can stay here a little longer then.”

“That sounds amazing.”

Hillary never outgrew the whole ‘waking up the entire family on Christmas morning’ thing, and soon enough the pair had to get up and get ready for the day. They all wore their stupid sweaters again, but they truly wouldn’t have it any other way.

Presents came next, and Pete did love his headphones, which gave Patrick the biggest sigh of relief he’d experienced in a very long time. Sure, they weren’t really anything special, but he’d worked his arse off for them, and as long as Pete liked them that was okay. The rest of the family liked their gifts too, and didn’t really seem offended that they were all just homemade.

One day, when he was an adult, he was gonna throw them the best damn Christmas ever and get all of them so many amazing things to repay them for everything they’d done for him. Showing up with this sort of stuff was pitiful, really. Especially considering they’d gotten him so many lovely things in return.

Andrew had bought him a new yellow wallet and Hillary had gotten him a new yellow hat. Dale and Pete senior had gotten him a new yellow coat and a yellow phone case. And that was because Pete had bought him a new phone.

“Mom wanted her blackberry back.” He chuckled softly when Patrick tackled him in a hug after taking the paper off the box. “And besides, it’s ancient. Now you can like, be a functioning part of the 21st century.”

“T-thank you…”

“Hey, it’s alright Sunshine. Merry Christmas.”

After that, it was just a jumble of eating delicious foods and singing stupid carols and calling relatives and watching stupid Christmas movies for the rest of the day. Patrick went outside to call Kevin on the new phone, and Pete just watched him from the window, a content smile on his face as he talked to his brother.

But the best thing that happened that day was when the phone ended and Pete went to sit outside with him in the cold. It was just the two of them, sitting underneath the mistletoe that Dale had conveniently hung there, and Pete took his boyfriend’s hand.

“Thank you, for everything you’ve done for me.” Patrick breathed, staring out at the road.

“I think it should be me thanking you.” Pete chuckled, pulling him close. “Hey, look up.”

“Mistletoe?” Patrick snorted. “Really?”

“What, you don’t want to kiss me?” Pete acted fake-offended.

“No, silly.” He laughed. “I don’t need a stupid plant to tell me to kiss you. I’d kiss you anyway, mistletoe or not.”

The moment was magical, Patrick’s lips were soft and he tasted like peppermints. Pete never wanted the moment to end as he traced his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair.

Patrick was just glad that this moment was his, and only his. No Clarence, no Ryan, nobody else could hear this or analyse this or anything like that. It was just him, and Pete, and the kiss. And that was all he ever wanted.


	24. Pete and Patrick return to school and get back into writing music together, and Pete accidently stumbles across something Patrick didn’t want him to see.

Like all breaks, Christmas break had to come to a close. Pete Senior had to bid his family farewell as he left for his next deployment, and Andrew went back to college. Now it was time for Pete, Patrick and Hillary to return to school.

Patrick spent the night before trailing his hands through his hair in the mirror. Sure, it had grown back a _tiny_ amount, but it was still practically a buzz cut and he hated it. How was he supposed to go back to school looking like this? It really just ruined his entire look, and when he tried to hide it with a hat, it just made it look worse when he took it off.

Of all the things that Clarence had done to him these past few months… this was definitely the one that got to him the most. Sure, there were incidents that hurt more, both physically and emotionally, but cutting his hair like this doomed his social life. Clarence _knew_ how much Patrick loved his friends, and found himself determined to humiliate him in front of the only people he felt really cared about him.

He was muttering bad words about his carer under his breath when the man himself opened the bathroom door and snorted. “What, trying to make yourself look better?”

“Shut up.” Patrick growled, throwing his beanie at his face.

Clarence chuckled and tossed it carelessly to the floor. “C’mon, you gotta run for me again before school starts up. Ryan wants data to compare from tonight and next Sunday.”

“No.” Patrick responded harshly, not turning from the mirror. “Not tonight.”

“Yes, tonight.” Clarence responded in the same manner, grabbing his shoulder and violently pulling him around. “You don’t have a say.”

Patrick was by far stronger, and didn’t usually like to use it against his carer. But being pulled like that always aggravated him, and he shoved his hand off him with an unnatural amount of force. “No!”

“Listen here, you little _shit_.” Clarence shoved him up against the mirror and held his hand under his chin, pinning him back there without choking him. “You don’t get a fucking choice in this. So, you’re gonna go put on your little fucking running clothes and meet me downstairs in 10, or you don’t go to school tomorrow. Hear me?”

Patrick didn’t give him the pleasure of a reply, but Clarence dropped him none the less, knowing he wasn’t about to refuse his threat. He always gave in to the school threat. School was everything to Patrick, and god, Patrick hated that Clarence had figured out he could use it against him.

So he did what was asked. He wore the yellowest outfit he could, and started getting himself set up downstairs. Hopefully this wouldn’t take too long, he needed to finish his winter break music composition to play for Professor Hoppus tomorrow. He’d been so distracted with Christmas and Pete and the whole Ryan business that he really hadn’t had a good chance to work on it. So he had tonight to scrap something together, and the thought was terrifying.  
Especially considering a couple of hours were going to be wasted doing another stupid run.

What kind of data did they even get from this? Sure, he was running faster. Great. How did that help humanity in any way, shape or form? Why would they need to study that in the first place? Patrick wasn’t anything other than a glitch to them, the living proof of an experiment gone wrong. He was honestly surprised that they kept him around, he really wasn’t doing anything to help them.

Eventually Clarence came downstairs and finished hooking him up to everything, and Patrick tried to focus on not punching him in the face as he made sure to insert the needles in the most painful way possible. He told Patrick that he wasn’t trying to hurt him, but the sick grin on his face as Patrick winced told a different story. It only disappeared when he saw the stitches holding Patrick’s back together.

“When the fuck did this happen!? Ryan’s going to _kill_ me!”

Patrick hesitantly put a hand over his shoulder. “I, I tried to cut the microphone out… but it’s too deep, a-and then Dale drove me to the hospital but I was unconscious and I c-couldn’t say no…”

He wasn’t expecting the sharp slap that came across his cheek. “You think you’re really smart, don’t you!? Well, this certainly wasn’t very smart! You’re, oh fucking hell Patrick!”

Patrick didn’t defend himself, just let Clarence go on with his little rage for the next few minutes. Patrick was just glad that he hadn’t realised that he’d succeeded in his plan of getting the stupid thing out of him. He carried it in his pocket now, to avoid raising suspicion. But that didn’t mean there were points in which he shoved it deep into the bottom of his back pack and had a few private moments with Pete. So far, it seemed his plan was working. A little slap was a small price to pay for that.

It didn’t end up being just a slap, it ended up being a punch and a kick and a verbatim of insults thrown at him, but that didn’t matter. He just sat there and looked down at his lap, and only fought back in his head. Clarence would be over it in a few minutes. He always was.

The run was nothing special, just another night being hooked up to weird wires and sprinting his little heart out on the treadmill. He didn’t put as much into it as normal, but still managed to grab himself another best time. He was smiling when the speed reached 50, so much so that he didn’t notice his foot slip and in a split second, the treadmill slammed him against the brick wall.

Why had they had to build this wall of something so hard?

The pain was blinding, and even though Patrick didn’t like to show his hurt in front of Clarence, he had to lie on the ground where he’d fallen for quite a few minutes and groaned in pain, slowly going over himself to check that he hadn’t broken anything. He was pretty sure his foot was sprained, or maybe fractured, but it didn’t matter all that much. His arms were fine, his legs were fine, and despite the headache and the dizziness and the nausea and the incredibly bright lights making him think he might have a mild concussion, he was fine.

Clarence was just swearing at him for not paying attention. Asshole.

“Oh, what, did you hurt yourself?!” Clarence snapped when Patrick winced from the loud noise. “Poor baby!”

“Shhhh.” Patrick whispered, putting a hand to his forehead and hoping that the world might stop spinning. “I, I think it’s a concussion. C-Can you help me up?”

That changed his tune. If there was anything Ryan had a no-tolerance policy for, it was Patrick receiving head injuries. Clarence put his arm around the kid and slowly pulled him to his feet, and helped him stumble over to the recovery bed in the corner, before doing his usual checks. Eventually, he sighed and passed him a bottle of water. “Ryan’s going to fucking _kill_ me.”

“It’s not your fault.” Patrick mumbled, taking a few sips of his water and wincing at the pain. “J-Just tell him I wasn’t paying attention and it’ll be fine.”

“No, it won’t!” He yelled, and Patrick winced again. “It’s my job to make sure that you are paying attention! Argh!” He stormed off, slamming the door to the basement and going upstairs. Patrick presumed to make a phone call.

The medical supplies weren’t hidden or kept under lock and key, and he got to bandaging his foot and ensuring it was well-secured. He popped a couple of painkillers for the headache, and disappeared upstairs to lie down in his own bed. He fell a couple of times on the way, was it his foot or his dizziness that caused that? Patrick wasn’t sure, but the yellow bedsheets were as inviting as anything, and he just hoped he could sleep it off before school tomorrow.

\--------

Pete noticed that there was definitely something up with Patrick at school the next day.

For starters, when he arrived, Patrick was sitting in the library with his little yellow headphones on, working on a song. Probably the one that they were meant to make over Christmas break. Pete had finished his the night before, but from what he saw as he approached his boyfriend from behind, Patrick hadn’t even started yet.

That was certainly unusual. Patrick always finished everything in record time. This was a big assignment, and it had taken Pete close to a week to finish his, and that was rushed. Patrick hoping to get it done in a morning was a hell of a push, even for him.

“Hey, Sunshine.” Pete pulled his headphones off with a slight chuckle and sat down beside him. “Didn’t do your homework, huh?”

“I, I was just busy.” He panicked and grabbed them back off Pete, before continuing to try and mix these stupid bars together. They didn’t sound right, and the headphones and all the noise just made him feel dizzy and ill, but he didn’t really have a choice. Patrick had never handed in an incomplete assignment, and he didn’t expect to start now.

That was when Pete noticed the bags under his eyes and his pale complexion. “Hey, is everything alright? You’re not looking too good…”

“I’m fine.” Patrick muttered, turning his attention back to his computer screen. He’d have plenty of time to hug and kiss and spend time with Pete, but he just had to finish this stupid song first.

He worked on it all throughout his other subjects, and at lunch, and had something that was _okay-but-not-great_ by the end of the day. It certainly wasn’t his best work, but it was something to hand in. And that’s all that mattered. Not that everyone else had perfectly-written and composed masterpieces to present to their teacher. He’d beat them all in the next assignment.

“Sunshine, are you limping?” Pete asked as they approached the music room towards the end of lunch.

“No.” He defended quickly, cursing his stupid foot and trying to focus on walking more normally.

“Because you are.” Pete folded his arms and stared him down. “And there’s obviously something going on. Are you sick again or something? Because, you don’t have to be here if you’re sick. Honestly, you look like you just need to be back in bed.”

“I just, I didn’t sleep last night.” He sighed, trying to formulate a believable lie. “Kevin, um, Kevin’s in the hospital. He got food poisoning yesterday, and I’m just worried about him and, yeah.”

“Oh.” Pete frowned. “That sucks. I’m sorry.”

“He’ll be fine. I just, I can’t be there, you know?” Patrick winced again and leaned against the wall for support. His back screamed in pain, but he just did his best to ignore it and looked up at Pete. “I don’t know anything about hospitals in California and I don’t know if he’s got anyone there with him, and yeah…”

“You could call the hospital?” Pete offered as a solution. “They could probably give you an update.”

“I did this morning. He’s doing better.” Patrick sniffled, and hoped that Pete would just see that as worry about his brother and not the fact his sinuses were really out of whack today. “I just worry.”

“Of course, I would too.” Pete put his arm around his boyfriend and gently kissed the top of his head. “It’ll all work out, Sunshine. Try not to worry about it, alright? It’s just food poisoning, and he should be fine.”

“Yeah.” Patrick breathed, trying not to cry. Pete’s arm was right on a super sensitive spot, but he couldn’t push it off right now. That would just arise more suspicion.

When the door opened and they were allowed into music, it was the biggest sense of relief Patrick had felt in a long time. He slumped into his desk at the front of the room and send his assignment on, before exhaling slowly. Everything ached, his head and his limbs and his foot and his core, and quickly popped a couple of aspirin to hopefully get him through this music double.

He was meant to be going over to Pete’s house after school as well. He groaned internally. Pete already realised something wasn’t quite right, so he had to drag himself over there. He didn’t have any excuses lined up, and _ugh. ___

__He managed to pull himself through an afternoon of song analysis, and slumped into Pete’s car in the afternoon, mentally and physically exhausted. More than anything, Patrick wanted to go home right now and just lie in bed until everything stopped hurting, but that really wasn’t an option._ _

__He let Pete make the conversation on the drive back to his place. He wasn’t paying close attention, in fact he wasn’t really paying attention at all. He was more so trying to wiggle his toes on his sore foot and work out whether he had a hairline or stable fracture. Probably stable at this point…_ _

__“Sunshine?” Pete interrupted his train of thought. “Did you hear me?”_ _

__“Sorry?” Patrick turned his head and winced at the sun streaming in from Pete’s window. “What’d you say?”_ _

__“You’re like, making whimpering sounds.” Pete frowned. “You didn’t notice when I turned the radio down, either. Are you sure that you’re fine? It _really_ seems like you’re not.”_ _

__“It’s just, my brother…”_ _

__“Oh, yeah. Hey, maybe call the hospital when we get to mine? There might be an update on how he’s doing.”_ _

__“Yeah.” Patrick breathed. “Okay.”_ _

__\--------------_ _

__Somehow, Patrick had manged to avoid the suspicious gaze of both Pete and Dale for way longer than he thought he’d be able to. He was lying on the couch with Pete, watching a movie that he’d suggested (“What do you mean you haven’t seen Ferris Bueler’s Day Off?!”), and Dale had simply brought them a couple of snacks and drinks on this dreary Monday afternoon._ _

__It was a miracle. The couch was soft and cool against his bruises, and he could get the weight off his foot for a couple of hours. Sure, Pete kept glancing over at him to see his reactions to the movie, but it was better than any other alternative. Maybe he could convince this to be a movie marathon of sorts. Maybe he could stay on this couch forever and not get up. That would be nice._ _

__The thought of going home to see Clarence made him feel sick to his stomach. Hell, Clarence would probably make him run tonight. He couldn’t do that, not with his foot like this. And then if he couldn’t, god, Clarence would probably kick him again and ugh. Everything hurt too much to deal with that right now. Sure, Dale and Pete senior had promised him on Christmas Eve that he could stay the night whenever he needed to, but did he really want to cash in that offer?_ _

__Okay, yes he did. He really, really did. Just for one night. When Pete disappeared to the bathroom, he dragged himself up and over to the kitchen, and sat down beside Dale. “Hi…”_ _

__“Hey sweetheart.” She looked up from her computer and smile, before frowning slightly once she saw Patrick’s dismal expression. “Is everything okay?”_ _

__“C-Could I stay here tonight?” He whispered nervously. “Please?”_ _

__“Of course, honey.” She assured, her face demonstrating her clear concern. “Is something going on at home?”_ _

__He nodded and looked down at the table, biting back his tears. “I, I just can’t go home tonight.”_ _

__“That’s completely fine sweetheart. I’m sure Pete will be overjoyed you’re staying. Do you have pyjamas or anything with you?”_ _

__He hesitantly shook his head._ _

__“That’s alright, I’m sure I can find something in the garage. I can’t guarantee it’ll be yellow though.”_ _

__“That’s okay.” He chuckled softly. “Thank you…”_ _

__“No problems. Why don’t you go shower and warm up, and I’ll see what I can find for you, hey?” She ruffled his hair and smiled._ _

__The hot water was nothing if not a relief. It took the aches away for a few minutes, and Patrick spent probably a little while longer in there than he should have. When he got out, he was met with the horrors of his reflection._ _

__The bruising was awful and twisted; swirls of deep purple and a sickly yellow colour worked their way around his entire torso and down his legs, especially down around his ankle. Definitely a stable fracture. He probably needed a cast, but there wasn’t a whole lot in this room that would work as one. Instead he just bound it back up in bandages, and tied his shoe up around it. It hurt, like hell, but it was probably the best thing that he could get to work at the moment. He pulled his jeans back on, and was about to put his shirt back on when the door opened._ _

__“Hey, so Mom wants to know if you want tacos or just to order pizza for din- _holy shit_.”_ _

__Patrick went pale and tried to cover himself with his hands, which was futile.  
Pete stared in disbelief for a moment, before blinking. “Sunshine, what’s that?”_ _

__“What’s what?” He asked, quickly pulling his shirt on to cover the bruises._ _

__“That!” Pete was loud, and Patrick flinched. “The, the bruising! Who’s- who the fuck hurt you?! Is this why you didn’t want to go home?! Who the fuck is Clarence?! Is he fucking _beating_ you or some shit?!”_ _

__“Shhh…” Patrick tried to shush him. “It’s fine, I’m fine, okay?”_ _

__“That is _not_ fine!” Pete yelled. “That’s, that’s… jesus!”_ _

__“Please, it’s okay.” Patrick put his hand gently over Pete’s mouth. “Clarence doesn’t _beat_ me. I just fell off my treadmill last night, okay? But I’m fine.”_ _

__“That’s more than a treadmill accident!” Pete told him. “It’s, god! MOM!”_ _

___Oh crap._ _ _

__Dale entered the bathroom, and Patrick eventually had to slump onto the toilet seat to take some of the weight off his foot. It throbbed underneath the bandages, and he just kept his eyes on the floor as Pete dramatically described the bruises he’d seen on his boyfriend to his mother._ _

__“It’s not that bad, Dale. I just fell off my treadmill.” Patrick mumbled. “I’m _fine_.”_ _

__“He’s not fine, Mom.” Pete folded his arms. “If you’re so fine, Sunshine, then take your shirt off and prove it.”_ _

__“What?” He asked, confused. “That’s stupid. I don’t have to take my shirt off.”_ _

__Then Dale gave him that stupid Mom concerned look, and he sighed. He didn’t really have a choice now, did he? If he was staying in their house and eating their food and accepting their love, then he owed them some kind of truth. Not all of it, but some of it. So reluctantly, he slowly tugged his shirt off and listened to Dale gasp in surprise in horror._ _

__“Ricky… sweetheart…”_ _

__“I know, I know.” He mumbled. “I was going fast, and there was a wall behind it, right? So I, I got distracted and my foot slipped, and it just, threw me back into it.” He sighed and rubbed his arm. “It’s not pretty, but I’m fine.”_ _

__“So that’s why you were so dazed today.” Pete murmured. “How, how the hell did you drag yourself around school like that?”_ _

__“You went to school like that?!”_ _

__Patrick winced and put a hand to his forehead, before groaning loudly. “I-It wasn’t so bad. I got my assignment and all my work done. I’m fine.”_ _

__“You have a headache.” Dale noted, before sighing. “Ricky, darling, are you dizzy? How’s your balance? Vision? Sensitivity to light and sounds?”_ _

__“I think it’s a concussion, but it’s only mild.” Patrick answered her question for her. “But it’s fine.”_ _

__It wasn’t fine. Patrick wasn’t fine, and both Pete and Dale agreed that he clearly wasn’t fine. In the end, Dale tucked him up in the spare room and let him eat his dinner from a tray, snuggled up in soft blankets and dosed up on some pretty powerful painkillers which just made him sleepy and giggly._ _

__“Sunshine, you don’t have to lie about the treadmill thing. If anyone’s hurting you, you don’t have to put up with it.” Pete told him after dinner. “Y’know Mom has contacts to like, child services and stuff through work, and y’know, I just don’t like seeing you hurt like this.”_ _

__“Shhh.” Patrick giggled softly, still high on pain medication. “I loooooove you Pete. Looooots. Let’s just snuggle here forever and never, ever _ever_ get up.”_ _

__Pete chuckled softly and kissed him. “Sounds good, Sunshine.”_ _


	25. Patrick decides to take his boyfriend to LA for a fun weekend and Pete learns a hell of a lot about who his boyfriend truly is

Patrick ended up staying at the Wentz house for 3 days, or until Dale had decided that his concussion had fully cleared up, and the bruises were finally starting to heal. Pete was not pleased that his mother was allowing him to go home, but Dale just had to tell him that she couldn’t hold Patrick against his will; and there was a very high chance that the injuries were actually from falling off a treadmill, even if Pete didn’t quite believe it.

Patrick had defended the treadmill story with his life, but Pete was sceptical. Even if he was running super, super quickly, there was no way it could have caused _that_ much bruising, right? Not to mention he asked Dale if he could stay the night. That meant that there was something at home that he was trying to stay away from; or maybe someone who he was trying to stay away from. And Pete had a pretty good idea of who that might be, and he also suspected that the reason Patrick was avoiding him was because he was responsible for the intense amount of pain that his boyfriend seemed to be in at the moment.

“Look, Pete, I’m gonna be fine.” Patrick shoved everything back into his schoolbag. “Clarence is fine, everything’s fine at home, okay?”

“Sunshine, I’m just worried about you, okay?” Pete folded his arms. “Next time you show up with bruises like that I’m calling the police.”

“Pete, I fell off my treadmill, okay?” Patrick smiled at him. “You don’t need to stress about it.”

“You can’t have hit the wall so hard it bruised both your front and back.” Pete huffed.

“I can run pretty fast.” Patrick defended, pulling his yellow backpack on. “C’mon, we gotta go or we’re gonna be late for school.”

“You’re gonna have to stop lying to me at one point or another.” Pete grumbled, grabbing his own bag. “Eventually, everything’s gonna come undone and I’d rather that come from you admitting everything rather than your photo being shown on the news as some kid who’s been murdered.”

Patrick just chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Pete, Clarence needs me too much to hurt me. It’s fine, okay?”

“Then why wasn’t it fine to go home after you hurt yourself?”

Patrick clenched his teeth together for a moment, before smiling widely and hoping it looked genuine. “Maybe I just wanted to spend more time with you.”

“Then you would’ve asked me if you could say, not Mom.”

“It’s her house, though. I can’t stay if she doesn’t say I can.”

“You’re really frustrating to deal with sometimes, you know that?” Pete scowled.

Patrick just giggled. “You still love me though.”

“You got me there.”

\-----------

It was definitely a stable fracture, but Patrick really wasn’t game enough to put a cast on his own foot right now. Sure, it was swollen to all hell, and he really knew he shouldn’t be putting any weight on it, but it would just make Pete more worried, and it was fine.

He’d dug out his old foot brace from the medical kit, and had taken to using the crutches at home, just to keep his weight off it. Clarence glared at him, constantly, but it was a better alternate than making this injury worse. 

But just because his foot had slowed down, didn’t mean that Patrick did. And when Patrick couldn’t run his energy off, he had to burn it off in other ways.

At first he’d tried lifting weights, but that just got sweaty, and he didn’t have a large enough supply of weights to keep himself occupied for long lengths of time. Then he’d moved to the rowing machine, but that wasn’t very fun either, and still put a small amount of weight on his foot. He’d made music, but that was only a short term thing and he couldn’t force himself to be creative for a long period of time, like he used to be able to make himself run.

So now he was doing math. His little desk was overrun with equations and sticky notes and pages and notebooks of workings. Although Patrick in general hated doing overly complex mathematic equations, it was a good way to keep himself busy at night. Not to mention Clarence loved it when he did math, and then he was just sitting in the basement with the cap of wires on his head as he tried to solve the Birch and Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture.

“Are you actually even getting any good data from this?” Patrick muttered, lines of working firing out from his pen. “Because these wires kinda itch.”

“Ryan’s overjoyed.” Clarence muttered, watching the screens. “He’s furious that you broke your leg on my watch, but he likes you’re doing math again. He wants you to take your working when you go and see him over the weekend.”

“Is he coming again?”

“No, you’re going back to LA.”

“Wait, what?” Patrick stopped writing for a moment and turned around. “Since when?”

“Since you finished your architecture degree?” Clarence stated. “You’ve got your graduation on Saturday.”

“Oh.” Patrick paused, remembering that _yes, he did indeed have a trip planned for LA this weekend_. “Do we have everything we need?”

“I’m not going, kid.” Clarence almost scoffed at that. “God no. I’m taking my annual leave. You’re in your brother’s care for the week.”

“A whole week? But, school!”

“You don’t need to be at school, kid.”

“But I want to be!” Patrick closed his book and sighed. “So great. Wait, if you’re not going, does that mean that there’s gonna be an extra plane ticket?”

“What, are you gonna invite your little faggot boyfriend to go watch you get your architecture degree?”

Patrick scowled at him, and turned back to his computer. Maybe that wouldn’t be a terrible idea.

\--------------

“Hey Pete…” Patrick broke the silence of their Wednesday afternoon homework session. “Do you wanna go to LA?”

“What?” Pete glanced up from his English paper and looked at his boyfriend. “I mean, yeah, sure? I’ve never been, it’d be cool to see it one day.”

“Sorry, let me clarify.” Patrick chuckled. “Do you want to go to LA with me this weekend?”

“This weekend!?”

“Yeah. I mean, you remember last time I went when I was doing my architecture exams?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, well, I’m graduating on Saturday, at the ceremony with honors. It’ll be fun, there’s like a graduates ball and we can spend the week with my brother, and yeah.” Patrick beamed. “Do you wanna come?”

“I mean… I don’t know, I’ll have to ask Mom…”

“It won’t cost anything.” Patrick added. “The scholarship I’m on flies me back for stuff like this, and because Clarence has business in Chicago he can’t come this time. So I’ve just kinda got this spare plane ticket, and yeah. Do you want it?”

“L-Let me talk to Mom…” Pete trailed off, partly in disbelief that his boyfriend was offering him a free trip to LA _just like that._

“Yeah, of course.” Patrick nodded. “I’ve already talked to her about it though, so I dunno, it’s just kinda about whether you want to come or not.”

“So how long is it for?”

“A week.”

Pete bit his lip. “That’s how many days of school I’d miss?”

“5.” Patrick admitted. “And to be honest, I’m a bit unsure about missing it too, but I’ve got your back when it comes to math and stuff. I can keep you up with the rest of the class.”

Pete just chuckled. “I’m really lucky to have my own private genius, aren’t I?”

“Maybe I’m just lucky to have my very own Pete Wentz.” Patrick kissed his cheek. “But I can keep you up to date. Other than that, we’d just be like, hanging out in LA, and there’s the graduation ceremony, and the graduates ball afterwards.” He smiled brightly at the thought of that. “And then we can just do sightseeing and hang out with my brother and stuff. Actually, I have to visit Ryan on one of the days, but yeah, other than that, it’s just chill.”

“Who’s Ryan?” Pete questioned.

“Ryan is…” Patrick winced as he tried to figure out how to put it. “He’s like… Clarence’s boss. And the only doctor I’m not terrified of? He’s good though, he just wants to go through a couple of routine checks and stuff.”

“Routine checks? Like, of what?”

Patrick just shrugged. “I’ll find out when I get there. But it’s no big deal. So, LA, are you in?”

“Yeah, alright.” Pete chuckled. “I’ll come to LA with you, Sunshine. But only if Mom says it’s okay.”

\--------------

Pete hadn’t been on a plane since, well, since he went to Florida to support his father during David’s funeral. It made the entire prospect of printing tickets and weighing luggage and packing a carry-on bag completely strange.

They were leaving for LA straight as soon as school had finished, and Pete’s Mom was gonna drive them to the airport. Patrick had brought his large yellow suitcase over, and given Pete an excited cuddle. “We’re going to LA!”

“Yeah!” Pete chuckled. “Hey, you like, know what you’re doing, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Patrick assured him. “Don’t worry. I’ll look after us.”

“Okay…” Pete dug his hands into his pockets. “Hey, are we like, prepared in case we get mugged or something?”

“Kevin makes me carry pepper spray.” 

“Okay, good.” Pete nodded. “Just, like, I’m really nervous and stuff, I haven’t ever been on a trip without my parents, and I haven’t been on a plane since I was like, 12, and yeah…”

“Oh, hey, that’s alright.” Patrick squeezed his hand comfortingly. “Let me know if I can do anything to help.”

“I will.” Pete assured him. “So, do you have stuff to do on the flight?”

“Yeah. Are you bringing your computer to watch some movies?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you’re set.” Patrick smiled. “It’s gonna be a great trip, I promise.”

“Alright Sunshine, I trust you…”

“C’mon boys, we’re gonna have to go or you’re going to miss your flight!” Dale called from the kitchen.

The airport was huge, and dizzying. Pete trailed behind his boyfriend nervously, who had no qualms about anything. From the check-in kiosks, to the baggage drop, and heading into the terminal, it was well-rehearsed, and he oozed confidence the entire time. Part of Pete was jealous at how easy he made these things look. But then again, Patrick had a lot of practice.

“So, you wanna get a donut before the flight?” Patrick giggled, holding his hand and walking him through the bustling terminal. A couple of people were staring at the boy dressed head-to-toe in yellow, but he either didn’t notice or ignored them. “For some reason, donuts are the best when they’re from the airport.”

“I, um, I’ve never had an airport donut…”

“Then let’s get one!” He giggled. “C’mon, this way!”

Damn, this kid moved quick. Even though Pete was sure he’d hurt his foot or something, he weaved the two of them through the crowds to a small little donut shop at the back of the food court. Within a few minutes, they both had a donut and a milkshake and sat down at their gate to enjoy it.

“So… that’s our plane.” Pete gazed out the window, snapping a photo and sending it to Brendon and the rest of the gang.

“Uh huh.” Patrick nodded. “Hey, um, so this is gonna be like super weird, but um… I’m kinda gonna knock myself out for the flight.” 

“What?”

“Well, not like, totally knock myself out, so to speak…” Patrick dug a small bottle of pills out of his backpack. “I have to take these, just, I don’t know, they make me sleepy and tired and, yeah. Calm me down.”

“Why do you- , why are you drugging yourself!?” Pete asked, quite astounded.

“Because I’m different, Pete.” Patrick told him in a hushed whisper. “And, I don’t know, think about it like I have ADHD and these calm me down for the hours so I’m not a nuisance to anyone on board.”

“But you’re not a nuisance to anyone on board!” Pete told him. “This is silly, you don’t need those.”

Patrick pulled him close, and spoke in a grave whisper. “Pete, by law, I’m not allowed to travel by aircraft if I’m not on these.” 

“Seriously?!”

Patrick just sighed. “Don’t make it a big deal. I’m just, gonna be a little sleepy, okay? Nothing too dramatic. Don’t stress about it.”

“I’m really fucking stressed about it now, Sunshine.” Pete folded his arms, thinking about Patrick’s revelation. “How, how did that even get legislated? What the hell?”

“I’ll explain everything later.” Patrick promised, kissing his cheek, before downing about 8 of the pills with his milkshake. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” Pete mumbled.

They were given priority boarding, for some reason Pete didn’t exactly understand, but ended up in the front row of economy class with Pete taking the window and Patrick in the middle, next to some business guy who didn’t take too much notice of them. Pete opened his computer to watch his movies once the flight had taken off, but made sure to keep an eye on his boyfriend, who sure enough, looked remarkably dazed and sleepy. But that didn’t stop him from pulling a notebook out of his bag and working on some damn complicated math equations.

Eventually Pete couldn’t hold back his curiosity any longer, and pulled his headphones off. “Whacha working on, Sunshine?”

“Birch and Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture.” Patrick murmured in response, scrawling the end to his line, before flicking back a few pages, and continuing working.

“Right.” Pete stated. “Maybe, in English please?”

“It’s the set of rational solutions to equations defining an elliptic curve.” Patrick explained, still not looking up from his working. “The modern formulation of the conjecture relates arithmetic data associated with an elliptic curve E over a number field K to the behaviour of the Hasse–Weil L-function L(E, s) of E at s = 1. More specifically, it is conjectured that the rank of the abelian group E(K) of points of E is the order of the zero of L(E, s) at s = 1, and the first non-zero coefficient in the Taylor expansion of L(E, s) at s = 1 is given by more refined arithmetic data attached to E over K.”

“I hope you realise I understood none of that.”

Patrick chuckled softly. “Yeah, that’s alright. You wanna know something cool about this equation?”

“Well, I mean, is it like a maths thing?”

“Not really?”

“Then sure.”

Patrick smiled. “If I can solve this, there’s a $1,000,000 prize being offered.”

“Seriously?!” Pete’s eyes widened. “Holy shit.”

“I haven’t solved it yet, though.” Patrick told him. “It’s a work in progress. I’ve been working on it for maybe, um… 3 weeks now? Yeah. But it’s a big job, and some people have dedicated their whole lives to this kinda stuff and come up with nothing. So, don’t expect anything. I’m just killing some time.”

Pete nodded, and tried to go back to his movie. It was really hard to pay attention when Patrick was solving million-dollar math equations beside him, though, and ended up just watching him with a smile. Patrick didn’t notice anything, just kept writing page after page of working until he ran out of space. Then he opened a fresh notebook from his bag and kept going, only stopping when the flight attendant offered cookies or to push his glasses up.

By the time they landed in LA, Patrick had 3 full notebooks of math equations, which he zipped up into his bag and rested his head back on the headrest. “Kevin has a nice house. You’ll like it.”

“Isn’t Kevin a college student?”

“Uh huh. But he lives off-campus with his girlfriend.” Patrick’s tired eyes lit up as he thought about it. “There’s a garden, and they have a dog, Pete!”

“Oh, cool.” Pete couldn’t help but notice that whatever Patrick had taken, it was really starting to kick in. “Hey, Sunshine, are you feeling alright?”

“Uh huh.” He murmured, packing up his pens and putting them away. “The plane’s _landed_ , Pete! We’re in Los Angeles!”

“Yeah, we are. But you’re… kinda pale, and you’re speaking a little differently to how you normally do. What are those pills, sunshine?”

“Nothing important.” He smiled, before his left eyelid twitched and he giggled. 

Pete frowned, but also realised he really didn’t know what to say in this situation. Who could he turn to and ask what was going on with his boyfriend? The flight attendants would probably think he was some kind of drugs, and then they’d probably spend their LA trip sitting in a prison cell.

He could ask Kevin, but they had to get out of this stupid plane first.

When it was finally time to disembark, it became clear that any poise Patrick had while walking was out the window, and he fell over as soon as he reached the isle. Pete yanked him back up, and essentially held him up and dragged him all the way to the terminal. Patrick seemingly didn’t notice that much, just giggled and stumbled over as soon as they were out of the tunnel.

Pete wasn’t the first to bend to help him, instead he was met by a guy in a green shirt and a slightly familiar face. The guy sat Patrick up and supported his back with his hand, before turning to Pete and smiling. “I’m Kevin.”

“I-I’m Pete.” Pete stammered, still trying to comprehend the situation.

“I’m Patrick.” Patrick added.

“Yeah, you are buddy.” Kevin chuckled. “It’s good to see you! Hey, you took a few more pills then you were meant to, didn’t you?”

Patrick just giggled and rested his head on his brother’s leg. “I had to be good for Petey!”

“Course you did.” Kevin sighed and smiled down at his brother. “Do you think you can walk or is it a bit dizzy still?”

“Foot.” Patrick responded. “I fractured it.”

“Fractured?” Pete echoed.

“What? When?” Kevin bent down and sat beside him. “How?”

“I fell off the treadmill Kevvy!” He responded, before giggling and resting his head on Kevin’s shoulder. “And I didn’t want a cast.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Kevin sighed. “Okay, okay. Hey, look, you’re like super high on your meds right now, so how about I carry you out of here and then we’ll go get the bags and head home, okay? Then you can have a nap until this wears off and then we’ll talk about your foot. Sound good?”

Patrick held his arms out to Pete. 

“Do you reckon you can carry him out of here?” Kevin asked.

“I mean, yeah? I c-could?” Pete stammered, still quite confused. 

“Let me know if he’s too heavy, I can take him.” Kevin pulled himself up, before pulling Patrick up next. Pete swept in, and before he knew it, he was carrying Patrick out of the airport bridal-style.

“You okay Sunshine?” Pete asked him uncertainly, trying to focus on not dropping him.

“Uh huh.” Patrick responded with a goofy smile, leaning his head back.

They spent a while at the baggage carousel, but eventually they headed out to Kevin’s car and Patrick laid in the back seat, still wearing a very wide smile and sleepy eyes.

“D-Does this happen every time?” Pete asked nervously, helping Patrick do his seatbelt.

“Not every time.” Kevin told him. “But it’s gotten more frequent recently.”

“What, the overdosing?”

“Yeah.” Kevin jumped in the car, and Pete climbed in the passenger seat. 

“What the hell is he even taking? And why?” Pete asked. “He told me a whole bunch of weird stuff about federal law but I haven’t heard anything about what it is and why. I’m just confused.”

“Pattycakes, you haven’t told him anything, have you?” Kevin sighed, turning to face his brother in the backseat.

Patrick just giggled, and shook his head.

\-------

After a very awkward long drive home, and an even more awkward attempt at trying to tuck Patrick into bed in Kevin’s spare bedroom, Pete finally found himself in his boyfriend’s brother’s house, across the country from home.

“Hey, so there’s just the one bed, but Patty told me you guys share. I’m happy to set the couch up if you want.” Kevin told him, pouring some coffee. “One sugar or two?”

“Two please.” Pete forced a smile. “And yeah, we’re alright to share. He doesn’t normally, like, sleep a whole lot anyway.”

Kevin smiled. “Yeah. So, from what I’ve heard, he’s hardly told you anything.”

“I know… about as much as you’ve told me?” Pete rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Plus the fact he was a genetic experiment by the military. And Clarence. I know his name, and that’s it. I… I haven’t met him, I haven’t been to his house, and, yeah…”

“Oh, boy.” Kevin chuckled and passed Pete his drink. “Now, do you want some answers?”

 _Oh fuck yes._ “Would Patrick mind?”

“If Patrick had it his way, you wouldn’t know his last name.” Kevin laughed. “But he’ll be fine. Look, it’ll all come out sooner or later, and it’s probably best you hear it from me.”

“Alright then…”

Kevin smiled, before it fizzled out and he exhaled softly. “Okay… I’m gonna try and explain it to you like Mom explained it to me when I was a kid. So, think about it like everyone on earth is a car on a highway, and everyone’s doing the maximum speed of 50, right? So everyone’s cars all go 50, and can’t go any faster. The problem is, Patrick goes at 100, and he can’t really slow down.”

“Right…” Pete’s confusion was obvious.

“So, like, his brain works twice as fast as the rest of us.” Kevin furthered. “And on this highway, that kinda means he’s stuck in traffic and can’t go around. So, naturally, that’s kinda really frustrating for him because he’s stuck behind everyone and just, can’t go the speed he needs to.”

“I know he’s super smart, or whatever.” Pete told him. “Can you just explain the meds?”

“Yeah, I’m getting to that.” Kevin rebutted quickly, before continuing with his analogy. “So if you’re in a super fast car and you can’t get everyone around you to speed up, you’d get frustrated, right?” Pete nodded. “Yeah, so, essentially, that frustration just like, builds up inside him, and he can’t really control it. And if he can’t get an outlet for it, then he explodes. And he hurts people. Not that he wants to, I mean, Patty honestly has the heart of a saint, but he can’t help it sometimes.”

“Oh…”

“So, the pills, they kinda, suppress him. They’re super strong, and he’s really not supposed to take so many, but I think he was just scared of exploding on the plane when you were there. He just… he thinks the world of you. I think he worries that if you learned everything then you’d probably leave him, so that’s probably why he’s kept so quiet about everything.”

“Why doesn’t he take them all the time then? To stop ‘exploding’ or whatever?” Pete asked.

“Because he becomes immune to them.” Kevin sighed. “It’s already happen to like, 15 different drugs. When he was little, they were suppressing him with so many drugs, and his body just learned to overpower them every time. So now, he can only take them when he’s flying, or needs to stay super calm for things like exams or funerals.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so that’s why he runs.” Kevin told him, before noticing the confusion on Pete’s face. “What, you haven’t seen him run?”

“No?”

“Oh, damn. Okay, well, he runs. He has a treadmill, It keeps him sane, pretty much. As long as he’s exerting his energy, he’s no threat to anyone. So when he was little, Mom and Dad kept him busy with schoolwork and professional level sports and stuff, which worked great, but then he finished his mathematics degree and now it doesn’t work as well anymore. Plus, he never loved the attention. So, he found a treadmill, and then just, runs on that to keep himself from lashing out. He normally runs, for like, 8 hours a day.”

“Oh, wow…”

“That was, until you showed up.” Kevin smiled up at him.

“What?” Pete asked. “I’m involved in this?”

“The kid’s covered in trackers, right? From when he was younger.” Kevin explained. “When he’s with you, he doesn’t need to run, or even get rid of that energy. From what I’ve heard from Ryan, apparently it doesn’t even build up inside him. It’s… something nobody’s ever seen in him before. It’s kinda amazing, really.”

“So… that’s why he hangs around me all the time…”

“No, he hangs around you because he genuinely loves you, Pete.” Kevin chuckled. “I can’t have a conversation with him without you showing up in every second sentence. “But hey, you know a little more about your boyfriend now. I’ll tell him I told you everything tomorrow. He should be fine by then.”

“Okay, good…” Pete looked down at his lap. “Is it alright if I just go to bed?”

“Yeah, of course.” Kevin smiled at him. “Let me know if you have any more questions. I’m always happy to answer them for you. Patty can be a nightmare to talk to sometimes.” 

“Thanks, Kevin.” Pete smiled, before quickly retreating to the spare room. Patrick was snoozing softly, still fully dressed with shoes on, but Pete just got changed and slipped into the bed beside him.

“Pete?” Patrick murmured sleepily.

“Sorry Sunshine, I didn’t mean to wake you…”

Patrick just cuddled right up to him and nested his face into Pete’s chest. “I like you.”

Pete chuckled softly. Sure, what Kevin had just told him was a little scary, but this little guy sleeping on his chest was still his Sunshine, and still pretty damn adorable. Pete just leaned over and kissed the top of his head, before leaning back to join him in the land of dreams.


	26. Pete makes pancakes and Patrick receives his degree before the two are off to celebrate together

When Pete woke up, the bed was empty, as it usually was when he woke up after a night with Patrick. After quickly pulling on some jeans and a loose t-shirt, he descended up on Kevin’s house to find his boyfriend.

He found Patrick in the kitchen, singing quietly to himself as he flipped a couple of pancakes. But what he found most interesting was that his boyfriend was leaning on a yellow cane as he cooked, before quickly tucking it away into a cupboard when he noticed Pete approaching. “Morning!”

“Hey, sunshine.” Pete sat down on the edge of the breakfast bar and smiled at him. “Feeling better?”

“Hmm?” Patrick responded, before remembering that he must’ve been pretty weird last night. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, I don’t actually remember what happened, those pills really just kinda suck it out of me.”

“Yeah, your brother said.” Pete chuckled. “And I got that last night. Whatcha making?”

“Pancakes. You want some?”

“Course I do.” Pete smiled warmly. “But I’m gonna make them and you’re gonna sit down. You’re not putting any weight on your foot until we get it checked by a doctor.”

“What?” Patrick chuckled. “There’s nothing wrong with my foot.”

“You told me it was fractured. Yesterday, at the airport. I carried you out of the terminal.” Pete stood up from his stool, and opened the cupboard where Patrick had stashed the cane. “And this confirms my suspicions.”

Patrick sighed. Man, he went pretty wild when he overdosed. But an overdose was better than an explosion, and he just took the cane back from Pete and leaned on it. “It doesn’t hurt all that much, and it’s nearly healed. I’ve got a brace on it. Sit down and I’ll make you pancakes.”

“Nope.” Pete told him, taking the spatula out of his hand and redirecting him to the seat. 

Patrick just sighed and did as he was asked, actually kind of relieved that Pete offered. “So… apparently you and Kevin had a bit of a chat last night…”

“Oh, yeah.” Pete tried to pretend having conversation like this was totally normal. “Yeah, he explained… some stuff.”

“Listen, you don’t… have to worry.” Patrick looked down at his hands. “I know, I flipped out that one time, but that was like a massive amount of stress and it kinda broke through. I handle myself, you don’t have to… be scared of me. Please don’t be scared of me. I’m not scary, I’m really not…”

“I’m not scared of you, Sunshine.” Pete snorted. “I’m just glad I know. So, just, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you, if you’re gonna… explode.”

Patrick groaned loudly and rested his head on the bench. “Please don’t.”

“What?”

“Call it stuff. Everyone calls it something. Kevin called it exploding ‘cause I couldn’t control it when I was little and Mom used to call it that so he’d understand. Exploding, unleashing, raging, they’re all just stupid words. They… make it seem worse than it is…”

“Okay.” Pete nodded. “What, what do you want me to call it, then?”

“Nothing.” Patrick responded. “We don’t talk about it.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Pete sighed. “Alright, whatever. Do you mind if I ask a few questions, though? Like, before we never speak of this again.”

“Might as well.” Patrick mumbled, wondering if he was ever going to be able to work his way out of this hole. Pete _knew_ now. That wasn’t a good thing for either of them.

“Why do you… do it?”

“It’s… a mistake. A bug in my code.” Patrick sighed, running a hand through his hair, and frowning even more when he remembered how short it was now. Damn Clarence. Damn Kevin for telling Pete. Damn Pete for being curious. Damn Ryan for ruining him. Damn himself for being born. Ugh. “I was the 1% that survived but I’m also full of issues. Not everything works like it should, and I’ve got some… quirks. That being one of them.”

“There’s more?” Pete’s eyes lit up with curiosity as he passed a plate of pancakes over.

Patrick groaned. “Okay, fine! Whatever. Vision problems. Not like, normal vision problems. Bad vision problems. Thus, glasses. I’m not letting you try them on. You’d end up with a migraine and be in bed for 3 days.”

“Well, I mean, it’s weird, but it’s not _super_ weird.” Pete responded, slightly confused as to why he was so worked up.

“You want weird?” Patrick raised an eyebrow, before shaking his head and looking down at his hands. “No. Forget I said that.”

“Well, now I wanna know.” Pete frowned. “Sunshine, I don’t get why you’re so adamant on keeping all these secrets from me. I mean, I love you, I wanna be there for you. But at the same time, I feel like I really don’t know you at all.”

“Pete, you know everything that _matters_.” Patrick told him, wearing those stupid big puppy-dog eyes that punched Pete in the gut. “You know my personality. You know that I love you. You know that occasionally I have moments. You know that I’m… smart. That’s all that matters. Everything else, like how I was made, who I live with, all that doesn’t matter. It’s just stupid, anyway.”

Pete was about to respond when Kevin entered the room with a girlfriend and a baby. “Morning guys.”

“Serena!” Patrick giggled and took the baby into his arms. “Look Pete!”

Pete chuckled. “Is this your niece?”

“Uh huh.” Patrick held the baby close, and she just giggled. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

Kevin chuckled. “Gentle, Patty.”

“I am, Kevin!” He beamed, pushing his glasses up and sitting down on the sofa with the baby, making silly faces at it. Pete couldn’t help but laugh. Patrick was cute on his own, but damn, Patrick with a _baby_? 

He might have snapped a couple of sneaky photos to look at later.

Pete was introduced to Kevin’s girlfriend Mary, and their daughter, before finishing making pancakes for everyone as a way to thank them for their hospitality. Patrick didn’t pay the three much attention, and ended up lying with the baby on the mat and playing with her. Pete glanced over every now and then, but was only met with smiles and giggles from the two of them.

“You want to give her her bottle, Patrick?” Mary offered with a kind smile.

“Oh, yeah!” Patrick leapt up to go and make it. “Yep, I can do that.”

“Are you always like this with kids?” Pete chuckled, watching him dash to the kitchen to make up a bottle.  
“He was more excited when she was born than Kev was.” Mary laughed. “He’s just got that maternal instinct in him.”

“Hey! I was pretty damn excited when she was born.” Kevin folded his arms.

Mary just laughed and kissed his cheek. “I know, I know. I’m just saying. You got it Patty?”

Patrick nodded and settled down with her in her arms at the kitchen table. He was about to start giving her the bottle when Kevin snatched it out of his hands. “Downstairs.”

“Kev…” Patrick sounded, was it nervous? He flicked a glance at Pete, and then back at Kevin.

“Your foot.” Kevin told him, and Pete’s eyes flicked downwards. Sure, Patrick was tapping his foot on the ground, but he always got twitchy when he got excited. Kevin took his baby back, and gave his brother a very stern look. “Downstairs. Now.”

“I’m fine, Kevin.” Patrick frowned, forcing his foot to stop. Then his hand started, ruining any chance he had of convincing his brother to hand the baby back.

“You know the rules.” He informed. “Downstairs or no Serena time. We don’t take chances.”

Patrick scowled, but got up and stormed out of the room. Pete sat silently, squeezing his hands together and eventually mustered up some courage. “W-Where’s he gone?”

“Just to run.” Kevin murmured, sitting his baby on his lap and bouncing her slightly. “He’ll be back in half an hour.”

“Like, treadmill? Like you said last night?”

“Uh huh.” Kevin nodded. “The twitching is always the first sign he’s building up. Once that starts, I just… I love him, I do, but I’m not trusting him with Serena when he’s like that.”

Pete frowned. “He wouldn’t hurt her.”

Kevin sighed. “Hold her for a moment?” Pete took the baby. “Okay. Look. He’s my brother. I love him. He loves me. If he had the chance, he never would hurt me. He’d never hurt Mom, or Dad, or anyone. But…” Kevin pulled his shirt off. “Patrick’s Patrick. He can’t control himself.”

The scars covering Kevin’s chest were huge. Gashes down his front, and smaller ones in between. Pete gulped nervously, not exactly sure what to say. How could his boyfriend, the fucking tiny little yellow dude who liked babies and music, do something like… that?

“Kev, honey, don’t scare him.” Mary sighed. “They’re from _years_ ago. He’s come a long way. We just… she’s small. And Patrick does understand it all. He just… doesn’t want it verbalised around you.”

“But why? Doesn’t he trust me?” Pete wondered aloud.

“He trusts you.” Kevin nodded. “He trusts you more than he trusts _me_. He’s just embarrassed. He wants to be normal, Pete. And he wants you to see him as normal. That’s all.”

\-----------

When Patrick didn’t return after an entire hour, Pete ventured down to the basement to find him.

He heard the treadmill before he saw it. The constant hum from the track and the even, rhythmic beat from Patrick’s footsteps. Then Pete frowned. Hadn’t Patrick broken his foot?  
It didn’t seem to be stopping him. He ventured around the corner, and sure enough, Patrick was just running, dressed in the yellow shorts that used to be Hillary’s and an old yellow shirt. As soon as he saw Pete he pushed the safety stop button and came to a halt, before slumping onto the nearby lounge chair to catch his breath.

“You don’t have to stop, Sunshine…” Pete started the conversation uncertainly. “I just came down to check you were okay.”

“I’m fine.” Patrick wheezed slightly as he spoke, before fumbling for his inhaler and taking a puff. “I was wrapping up down here anyway.”

Pete frowned. “What’s with the inhaler?”

“Asthma.” Patrick responded, before taking a swig of water.

“Oh, right.” Pete turned his attention to the treadmill. It was clearly a nice one, but aging slightly, and was covered in heaps of tiny stickers, and several childish nametags with Patrick’s name printed on them. It was cute, actually.

“I’ve had that since I was 2.” Patrick explained, noticing Pete looking at it. “Little me wanted to make it more fun.”

“It’s cute.” He chuckled, running his hand over some of the stickers. “So, this has been your whole life then. Just running.”

“Well, I mean, I find other ways to keep myself busy too. But, yeah. Running is the most effective. My new treadmill at home is better. And I’ve got an industrial one in the basement too. This one just lives here for when I visit Kev.”

“It’s just weird to think about.” Pete chuckled. “Like, on top of you doing everything and being amazing at everything, you’re also like running 8 hours a day. That’s so weird.”

“My one at home has a desk.” Patrick explained. “I… jog and watch lectures at the same time.”

Pete looked at him. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Patrick breathed.

“I don’t understand you in the slightest.” He chuckled. “But you still amaze me. Honestly. This is weird, yeah, but also like super cool too. And I know you don’t like it, but seriously, you’re like a superhero or some shit.”

“It’s hard to be a superhero when your backstory lines up with some of the most messed up supervillains in history.” Patrick joked, with a slight hint of sadness.

“You’re not a supervillain.” Pete sat down on the sofa and put an arm around him. “You’re sweet and lovely and the literal sunshine in my life. The day you’re a supervillain is the day I get an A in math.”

Patrick laughed and pecked a kiss to Pete’s cheek. “I love you, oh my god.”

“I love you too, Sunshine.” Pete beamed. “But you gotta get ready. You’re gonna graduate from college in like…. 3 hours.”

“Oh, right.” He laughed. “Are you ready for the ball tonight?”

“Is that tonight?” Pete asked.

“Yeah. It’s suit and tie. Kevin’s got one you can wear.” Patrick grinned, a cheeky glint in his eye. 

“Seriously?” Pete found himself getting slightly nervous. He wasn’t really someone who got dressed up and went to fancy events like this…

“Do you remember the foxtrot? The dance I taught you?” Patrick asked.

“I, I… vaguely?”

“Want a refresher?” Patrick stood up. “We’re gonna need it tonight.”

“We’re dancing?!”

“Uh huh. Everyone dances.” Patrick stood up and extended a hand to his boyfriend. “C’mon, lets practice.”

“I d-don’t know if I can dance in front of people… you’re like, good, but I’m just…”

“Perfect.” Patrick finished his sentence with a smile, taking Pete’s hand and bringing him into position. “Do you trust me?”

“I trust you.” Pete breathed, looking into Patrick’s eyes as they started dancing. It came back to him as they practiced, and Patrick just smiled up at him, his expression none other than wonderment and joy.

It was moments like these that made all the weirdness and the secrets and the running around for answers completely worth it.

\--------

Patrick looked funny on stage getting his degree. For starters, Pete wasn’t sure where on earth he’d gotten the yellow graduation robes, and the fact he was literally half the height of everyone else drew more attention as well. Pete just tried to pretend that yeah, this was very normal, and just cheered loudly for Patrick when he was handed his degree. 

There was something weird about seeing in real life. Sure, there were pictures of Patrick getting degrees all over the internet, but seeing it in person, in his yellow graduation cap surrounded by 20-something year olds, it really just hit Pete that he really was going out with a genius, and Patrick was probably way out of his league.

How he lucked out like this, he still had no idea.

When the ceremony was over and Patrick had received his piece of paper and Kevin had taken a billion photos of him in his robes, it was time to get ready for this weird graduates ball. Pete hadn’t ever been to anything like this before. He wasn’t particularly good at being, proper, or whatever. Well, neither was Patrick, but Patrick was used to this kind of stuff.

Pete took a couple of his emergency anxiety pills just to calm himself down. Sure, this was super formal and he was totally gonna screw this up, but he just had to focus on the things that were okay.

Like this suit. Kevin had handed it to him when they’d gotten home, and it surprisingly fit him like a glove. It was full black, with soft lining and surprisingly didn’t make him look half bad. He had decided to skip the eyeliner today, it wasn’t really that formal and didn’t go with this look. Especially with the yellow tie that Mary had handed him.

When he finally saw Patrick, it made sense. Where could you even buy complete yellow suits? But the complete yellow with a black tie matched Pete’s outfit exactly. They were reflections of each other, sharing a colour scheme. Yin and Yang, except with black and yellow.

“You look… wow….” Patrick stammered, his cheeks flushing red and giggling awkwardly.

Pete laughed and hugged him. “You look yellow. But I shouldn’t have expected different. You’re cute as hell, as always, Sunshine. Was the tie swap your idea?”

“No, that was Kevin.” Patrick smiled, pushing his own tie up. “But I love it.”

“I do too.” Pete smiled, blushing himself.

“Alright you two.” Kevin entered the room with his camera. “Let’s get some photos because this is adorable, and probably the closest thing to a school dance that you two are ever gonna get. So stand together, smile.”

They stood together, and Kevin took several photos. Nice ones, silly ones, ones where Pete snatched the yellow hat from Pete’s head and Patrick giggled as he swatted to get it back. Kevin texted them to Pete, who forwarded them to Dale with a smiley face.

_Dale: !!!!_

_Dale: You two look amazing!!!_

Dale: Have a great time tonight!! Take care of eachother! I love you!!!

“Did she respond yet?” Patrick asked on the way to the venue.

“Yeah.” Pete smiled at his phone. “She says we look good and have a great time tonight.”

“She’s amazing, Pete. Don’t ever let her go.” Patrick smiled at his boyfriend and took his hand. “Are you still nervous?”

“Not so much anymore.” He admitted. “I’ve got you. You keep me calm.”

“The same can be said the other way around.” Patrick blushed.

“You two are so sweet, it’s sickly.” Kevin laughed from the front seat. “Keep it in your pants.”

“Kevin!” Patrick cried in embarrassment, fighting off a grin as his face turned beetroot red. That just made Pete fall into hysterics, and pressed a kiss to Patrick’s cheek.

When they finally got out, Pete took Patrick’s hand and squeezed it as they walked towards the entry. “If you’re yellow, and I’m black, what does that make the two of us?”

“A bumblebee?” Patrick offered with a smile.

“So we’re going extinct?”

“The last of a dying breed.” Patrick laughed. “C’mon, let’s go have a good time.”

Pete nodded, and they headed into the venue with their arms around each other. Patrick had to make tonight nice. It might be the last chance he got to do anything like this, especially since he was seeing Ryan in the morning.


	27. Patrick goes to see his doctor, and Pete starts to realise that he might have a genuine reason to be terrified of that fact.

Sure, Pete’s dance moves hadn’t been perfect, and sure, he might have stepped on Patrick’s toes a couple of times, but there was no doubt that the night at the graduates ball had probably been one of the best nights in his life. Great food, great lighting, reasonable music, and the best company in the world.

When he woke up the morning after, he pulled his usual outfit back on before going to try and find his boyfriend. Pete heard Patrick before he saw him, and was reasonably surprised to hear him fighting with his brother.

“He’s not coming Kev! I don’t care what Ryan said! Pete doesn’t need this! I don’t want him caught up in this! He’s an innocent party, I’m not letting Ryan, or Clarence, or Dallon anywhere near him!”

“Patty, buddy, look, I’m just the messenger.” Kevin sighed. “Ryan just asked me to bring him along today. If you don’t want anything to happen, then you’re gonna have to take that up with Ryan. Okay?”

“If you agreed to leave him here then I wouldn’t need to.” Patrick scowled.  
“Yeah, and that’s gonna go down great, isn’t it? I’m sure our visiting rights won’t be affected _at all_.”

Patrick huffed in frustration, and turned on his heels to march to the basement. He was so caught up in his hurricane of emotions that he didn’t notice Pete until he walked right into him.

“O-Oh, sorry…” Patrick quickly apologised, before his face fell. “How much did you hear?”

“Why does Ryan want _me_?” Pete questioned. “And… why are you seeing him? Who is he? How does he even _know_ about me? What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Patrick sighed. “I’m going to see my old doctor, and you’re gonna sit in the waiting room the entire time, and then we’re gonna and see a movie. Sound good?”

“Are you sure, Sunshine?”

“Yes, I’m sure!” Patrick rushed, before pushing past him and heading to the basement.

Weird.

“Sorry about him.” Kevin chuckled awkwardly. “He’s protective.”

“I’m like, a foot taller than him.” Pete forced a smile. “Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

“Dude, in spirit, he’s taller than mount Everest. Do you want some cereal or coffee or something?”

“That’d be lovely, thank you.”

\---------

This was completely different to any doctor’s office that Pete had ever been to. For starters, when Kevin had driven them, he had taken them to some weird building that looked somewhat abandoned, an hour from his house. Inside, despite the exterior, was clean and had a fresh coat of paint with new furniture. It wasn’t an office though, it was a house, where the waiting room was just the living room, and the receptionist area was just the kitchen, where Patrick had run up to a lady in a military uniform and hugged her tightly. “Erin!”

“Patrick!” She beamed, rustling his hair playfully. “How’ve you been, buddy?”

“Good!” He chirped, standing on the tips of his yellow sneakers. “Is Ryan in yet?”

“Not yet, he’ll be here soon.” She smiled warmly, before he gaze flicked to Pete. “Hi Peter, lovely to meet you.”

 _How the fuck did this lady know who he was?_ “Um, yeah, nice to meet you too…”

“He doesn’t go by Peter. He’s _Pete_.” Patrick corrected her, putting an arm around his boyfriend. “And he’s gonna wait out here with you while I see Ryan, okay?”

“Patrick, buddy, that’s not what I’ve got here.”

“I don’t care what you’ve got there.” The look on her face told Pete that Patrick hadn’t ever spoken back to her like that before. That was a strange thought, but also sort of sweet. He was talking back for the first time… for Pete’s sake. “He waits out here with you.”

“You’re gonna have to take that one up with Ryan, then.” The lady responded, scrawling a note down. 

Patrick sighed. Everything had to be taken up with Ryan these days. He needed new running shoes? Take it up with Ryan. He wanted a longer stay with his brother? Take it up with Ryan. He wanted to protect his boyfriend, and the only person who really loved him? Take it up with Ryan.

“Fine.” Patrick murmured, taking Pete’s hand and leading him to the sofa. 

“This is like, super fucking weird, you know that?” Pete murmured and Patrick sat down beside him and rested his head on Pete’s shoulder.

“Uh huh.” Patrick sighed. “I’ll explain everything later.”

“Alright…” Pete looked down at his lap. “Y’know, I’m fine to see this Ryan dude or whatever if he wants to see me. I really don’t have any problems with it.”

“I do.” Patrick told him, taking his hand. “You don’t…. you don’t know what kind of stuff they do… and I just, I don’t want you caught up in everything. You’re my boyfriend, not some aid to their tests or whatever. Hey, if they do talk to you, they’ll try and convince you that it’s for my good or whatever. Just ignore it, okay? Whatever they ask you to do, say no. You have that right. Unlike me.”

“I thought you said they couldn’t do anything you didn’t consent to.” Pete frowned.

Patrick sighed, and slumped his shoulders. “Sometimes I don’t tell the truth because I want to protect you.”

“What else have you tried to protect me from?” Pete asked, not exactly knowing whether he wanted to know the answer or not.

He didn’t get a response, as the door opened and a group of men in ties and lab coats walked in. Patrick smiled and got up to hug the one in the middle, and giggled. “Ryan!”

“Hey, darling.” Ryan chuckled. “How are you?”

“I’m good!” He smiled. “Let’s get started!” 

Patrick had hoped that might distract him from Pete, but as usual, he was wrong. He tried to hide the nerves swirling around in his stomach as Ryan walked over to his boyfriend and introduced himself. “It’s lovely to meet you, Pete. I’m Dr Ross, but we’re on first name basis around here, so call me Ryan. It’s a pleasure.”

Pete stood up and shook his hand, but didn’t get a chance to respond before Patrick butted in. “Pete’s waiting out here for me.”

Ryan turned to the boy in yellow, and raised an eyebrow. Patrick gulped nervously, but tried to keep his stance firm. He wasn’t any of these people get their hands on Pete. Pete wasn’t their toy to play with. Pete was for Patrick, and Patrick only.

“Alright.” Ryan said eventually. “Come on then.”

Patrick sighed in relief once Ryan turned. After pecking a quick kiss to Pete’s cheek, and patting Kevin on the shoulder as a subtle hint to stay out here as well, he turned and followed his team of professionals down the hall.

It was nothing new to Patrick. The standing up against the wall to measure his height in the hope he’d grown some more, which he hadn’t. Getting his blood pressure taken, still too high but within a manageable level. Standing on the scales, and checking if he’d gained weight.

“Thirteen pounds.” Dr Dallon, Ryan’s faithful assistant and Patrick’s long-time pest, chuckled, poking him playfully in the stomach. “You gotta cut down on those milkshakes.”

“He’s fine, Dal.” Ryan frowned, looking at his computer screen. “It doesn’t matter how many extra pounds he’s carrying. As long as it doesn’t affect his times, then it’s fine. But I’m assuming you need some more money to the clothes budget?”

Patrick huffed and looked down at his feet. “S-Shut up…”

“You’re not fat, Patrick.” Ryan frowned. “Your body-mass index is still within the healthy range. In fact, it’s better, you were starting to get a little towards the underweight category. I’m just asking, do you need some new clothes?”

Patrick hesitantly nodded, pulling his shirt back on and sitting down while Dallon checked his ears.

Ryan made a note and typed some on his computer, before spinning back around. “Alright. Well, everything seems in order. So, let’s talk about Pete.”

“We don’t need to talk about Pete.” Patrick responded quickly. “Because he’s not involved in this. I’m taking him home and we’re going to see a movie. You don’t need to talk to him, or test him, or anything like that. He shouldn’t even be here in the first place.”

Ryan’s facial expression fell, and then turned to one of interest as he studied Patrick’s facial expressions for a few moments. “Kevin didn’t tell you, did he?”

“T-tell me what?”

He felt Dallon grab him, and he tensed up. They only held him down when the news was gonna be upsetting. Like when they told him about his Dad. And then about his Mom. And then Kevin moving out. And whenever they were gonna do another deprivation study…

“No.” Patrick’s eyes went wide and he grabbed the armrests of the chair. “Not while Pete’s here. _No_.”

“They’re only little ones, Patrick.” Ryan explained. “48 hours each. In the big suite, too. We need the data. You know you’re getting worse. We’re just trying to figure out why.”

“I’m managing _fine_.” He spat. “I’m not doing another study. Maybe during the summer. But not during my holiday week with Pete. I promised I’d teach him calculus. This isn’t fair!”

“We just need to study the effect that he’s having on your hormone levels.” Ryan ignored his previous objections.

Patrick forced against Dallon’s grip. “You’re not bring Pete into this! He’s just a kid, okay?! He doesn’t need any of this. You wanna force me into a room and watch me suffer for 48 hours? _Fine._ But Pete’s not me, he doesn’t understand this, and I’ve done my best to keep him out of it, and-“

“Patrick,” Ryan interrupted.

Patrick didn’t stop. “He’s my boyfriend. Big deal. He’s not your lab rat, he’s not for you to run tests on. Anything that happens between Pete and I is personal, and you have-“

“ _Patrick,_ ”

“-no business listening in or testing anything. Yeah, sure, he helps me, but you don’t need him in this stupid lab to be able to test that. Pete doesn’t belong here, he belongs at home, with his Mom and Dad and brother and sister, and just to be left out of all-“

“PATRICK!”

Patrick flinched and stopped forcing against his captor for a second. Ryan didn’t yell at him. All the other doctors might, Dallon was known to yell quite often, but Ryan _didn’t_ yell at him.

“Get him prepped and the sensors on him.” Ryan muttered once silence had overtaken the room.

Patrick couldn’t find the inner strength to fight Dallon on the walk to the prep room.

\-------

The TV was growing old, Pete’s phone was dead, and Kevin was doing work on his computer and was therefore uninterested in having a conversation. Pete was bored. What was Patrick even doing? What kind of doctor’s appointment went for 5 hours? And what even was this place?

He was getting ready to ask Kevin if he could go for a wander to find somewhere to get some lunch when Dr Ross, Ryan, came around the corner and smiled at him. “Pete.”

“Where’s Patrick?” Pete stood up from the lounge chair he’d been calling home for the past few hours.

“He’s safe. Care to come for a walk? It might provide you some answers.” Ryan answered with an empty smile.

The house was much bigger than it looked on the outside. Downstairs Pete did see a doctor’s office, but that clearly wasn’t where they were headed. Up the stairs, down another corridor, through a locked door (Which Ryan unlocked with a swipe key and Pete had a minor internal freak out – he’d only seen stuff like that in movies), into a room with computer monitors lining two walls, and a very large window covering the other wall. But the window didn’t look outside, instead to a room with a bed, a toilet behind a privacy screen, an empty desk, and a Patrick Stump wearing a set of light yellow sweats, covered in patches and wires, who had curled up in the corner of the room and was rocking himself back and forth.

“Sunshine!” Pete panicked and ran to the glass, banging his fist on it to get his attention. When there was no response, and Patrick was still grunting and had his head buried in his hands, Pete realised what was going on.

“Double sided mirror.” Ryan stated, confirming his suspicions. “We can see him but he can’t see or hear us right now.”

“What? W-What the fuck is this? What- what’s going on?”

“It’s a deprivation study. We do them every six months.” Ryan explained, standing beside Pete and looking through the glass to his subject. “He uses his treadmill to manage, but it’s important to understand how he fares without it. And at the moment…. Not too well.”

“No shit.” Pete growled. “Let him out.”

“It’s a 48 hour study.” Ryan responded. “Pete, you have to understand that your presence and the relationship that you two have formed has dramatically altered his brain chemistry. He’s doing better than ever, when he’s with you. But when he’s not with you, at home, then he’s only getting worse. And this is to find out why. So we can help him. He’s our responsibility, and it’s our job to make sure that he gets the best quality of life possible. So four days out of six months to ensure he’s able to, well, _cope_ is a price that has to be paid.”

“Four days? You said 48 hours.” Pete frowned.

“Well, that’s where you come in.” Ryan put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “We need to do two. One without the treadmill, and one without the treadmill, but with you.”

“Me?”

“When he’s with you… it’s actually, it’s something we’ve never seen before in him. The power of love, I guess.” Ryan chuckled to himself. “We just want to have a look at what that means in terms of brain activity. And if we can replicate it. Because, well, if I can tell you the truth… he’s probably not going to be able to run for much longer.”

“What? Why?”

“Asthma.” Ryan sighed. “Such a simple, common illness. He’s managing at the moment, but he’s going through 3 puffers a week to keep his airways open while he runs, and it’s only getting worse. If we can look at how you’re helping him, and if we can replicate that, we might have a way to continue to give him a proper quality of life.”

“Oh.” Pete gulped, looking back to Patrick, who still hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor.

“Will you help him?” Ryan asked. “We won’t track you, or anything like that. WE just need you to sit with him in the room for 48 hours while we monitor his brain activity.”

“I’ll help.” Pete breathed, not exactly sure what he was agreeing to.

Ryan smiled, and patted Pete’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Pete watched his boyfriend from the other side of the glass, and his heart shattered a little. Patrick didn’t deserve this. Not his sunshine. His sunshine deserved breakfast in bed, snuggles on the couch and kisses and affection. Not to lie in a glorified prison cell for 4 days while his mind tortured him. This wasn’t his fault. He didn’t deserve this.

And that was when Patrick looked up, and a chill ran down Pete’s spine.

Where once was a sea of blue, Patrick’s iris’s now wore a bright yellow.

\-----------

In hindsight, Pete really should have asked more questions before he agreed to go in there. 

Questions like: _Will I be safe around him during this time?_ And _What kind of stuff happens to him when he’s been deprived?_ might have saved him a lot of guessing once he was shoved in there. Or maybe he really should have asked _When you said 2 48-hour studies, did you mean that he’d get access to his treadmill after the first one to calm himself down, or am I going to be shoved into a cell with a possibly-dangerous yellow-eyed Patrick?_

But none of those questions ended up being asked, and Pete was overall feeling pretty positive about the whole thing. The grey sweats they’d given him to wear were lovely and soft, and the patch on his chest to monitor his vitals wasn’t too bad. He’d zoned out completely during Ryan’s safety briefing, focusing instead on the thought of seeing Patrick again. It had been 2 days now, and Pete was missing him more than ever.

He didn’t pay attention during any of the briefings, and the only sinking feeling that this might have been a mistake was when the door was closed behind him, and he was locked in a room with his boyfriend.

The yellow eyes were the first thing Pete saw as Patrick scrambled up from his spot on the floor, and pressed himself right back into the corner. Pete immediately leapt back into the opposite corner, and for a brief moment, the two stared each other down, both fearing what the other would do.

“T-That’s really fucking freaky, Sunshine…” Pete breathed, his eyes still wide in terror as he squished himself back against the wall.

Patrick didn’t say anything, nor did he blink, which was even more terrifying. All Pete was thinking about was the scars on Kevin’s back, and his words about how Patrick couldn’t control it. How he hurt people. And Pete was getting a little terrified that he was the next one of Patrick’s victims. He’d managed to throw Pete to the floor when he was just a little stressed before the Christmas concert, what could he do when he was… this?

Patrick grunted slightly, and rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. Pete watched his facial expressions, trying to channel his inner-Patrick mind reader. He didn’t look like he was about to bite Pete’s head off. No, that… he just looked scared. And a little confused. Did he recognise Pete like this?

“Sunshine?” Pete forced himself to take a step forward. “Buddy, it’s me…”

Patrick frantically moved further away from Pete, but then he blinked. And then he blinked again and again and again, and grunted again, before rubbing his eyes like they were hurting him. Then… then he looked up. His eyes weren’t magically blue again, but there was a little more of a green tint to them now. Did Pete do that? Did that help him? Maybe _this_ was what Ryan had been talking about.

“Hey, yeah, there we go.” Pete forced a smile, still trying to be delicate, but took another step forward. “It’s Pete, buddy. I’m here.”

Pete didn’t have expectations, but he wasn’t expecting Patrick to scream and fall backwards onto the tiles, rubbing his eyes frantically. Pete ran to help him up, but Patrick was faster, and quickly sprinted back to the other side of the room.

“Sunshine, buddy, it’s okay. I’m just trying to help.” Pete raised his hands in the air. “Please, it’s okay. Just say something.”

Patrick didn’t speak, but did pull his hands away from his face to reveal a set of blue-green eyes, and a wave of relief rushed through Pete. Okay, this wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot closer to the Patrick he knew and loved. Patrick grunted again, running a hand through his hair, before pulling it back to his side and holding his hands up to protect himself, if need be.

“Sunshine, hey, hey, it’s alright. I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m Pete, yeah? You know me.”

“P-Pete…” Patrick managed to struggle, forcing the word as if it was painful.

Pete grinned. “Yeah buddy, it’s me. You’re alright, I’ve got you.” He took a few more steps forward, arms open for a hug, but Patrick just shrieked in alarm and bolted back to the other side of the room.

“Don’t be scared, Sunshine.” Pete frowned. “It’s alright. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I-I-…” Patrick forced. “S-Stay away.”

“No, no, I’m here to help you, right? I already managed to get that freaky shit out of your eyes, so just like, trust me, okay?”

They went in circles for a little while, Pete trying to get closer and Patrick screaming and trying to avoid him with every bone in his body, until slowly Patrick was able to form some sort of a complete sentence. “Don’t t-touch, I-I’ll hurt you…”

Pete winced, thinking back to the moment at the Christmas concert where Patrick had uttered the same words. “Okay, okay, no touching. I’m not gonna touch you until you say I can.”

Patrick exhaled and looked down at his shaking hands, then back up at Pete. Pete just tried to focus on the task at hand and not at how broken his boyfriend looked right now.

“What if you touched me?” Pete tried. “You’re doing so good, Sunshine. Here.” Pete held his arm out. “Just, run your finger over my hand, okay?”

Patrick frantically shook his head. 

“You won’t hurt me.” Pete encouraged. “And besides, we’re surrounded by doctors. If you hurt me, I’m gonna get some pretty decent care.”

Patrick still shook his head, and Pete reconsidered his offer. “Okay, start with the fabric. Just, touch my shirt. Not me. Just gently. And we’ll go from there.”

It took Patrick a good 10 minutes to warm himself up to it. He got his hand close a couple of times, then pulled back in fear. Pete just kept offering him encouragingly smiles, knowing that he wasn’t in his right mind right now. But Pete was gonna get him there. And when a shaking hand softly brushed the fabric of his sweatshirt, everything was okay.

It went from the sweatshirt, to his sleeve, and then a very nervous Patrick felt his hand and ran his hand over Pete’s arm hair. And then Pete opened his arms, and sat on the bed, waiting for a hug.

It might have taken two hours, but when Patrick curled up in his arms and cried into his chest, it was all worth it.


	28. Patrick still doesn’t enjoy sharing his secrets, but Pete wants answers and is determined to get them. Also, music assignments and back to school.

When the 48 hour study was over, Patrick wasn’t released straight away like Pete was. They kept him in recovery for another day, which was fair enough. Patrick hadn’t said more than few words for the entire 2 days he was in there with Pete, and the bags under his eyes and the constant trembling really made Pete worry. He spent the two days with Patrick in his arms, the two snuggled up on the bed while Pete filled the silence with mindless tales. Stupid stories about things he did at school, his time in the soccer team, funny things that had happened. Sure, the silence and the trembling was a bit off-putting, but his eyes were still blue and he seemed okay. Other than the trying to eat Pete’s clothes every now and then. That was a bit weird. 

But when Kevin and Pete went to pick him up after his 24 hours in recovery, he was unrecognisable to that yellow-eyed _thing_ Pete had been shoved into a room with. His face was bright again, he was smiling again, and he was back in his weird little yellow jeans and yellow shirt and yellow hat. 

Pete hugged him tightly. “God, I missed you.”

“I missed you too!” Patrick stood up on his tip-toes to kiss Pete’s cheek. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Do you have everything you need from Ryan?” Kevin asked, looking over his brother like he was forgetting something.

“Yeah.” Patrick responded quickly, grabbing his backpack. “Let’s go home.”

The week in LA had gone quickly, especially when over half of it was spent in some kind of prison cell while the doctor’s monitored Patrick’s every brainwave. He didn’t talk about it at all on the car ride home, in fact he just sat there and looked at his hands, swearing in another language whenever his fingers twitched. Eventually Pete reached out with concern written all over his face. “If you’re not feeling 100%, then we can just have a quiet night at your brother’s before we go home.”

“I’m fine.” Patrick pushed his hands into his hoodie pockets, and turned to face out the window. “Do you wanna go out for dinner?”

“I mean, only if you’re feeling up to it, Sunshine…” Pete frowned. “Dude, if you need more time to like, recover, then that’s fine. Kevin told me you normally get 3 days recovery…”

“I don’t need any more recovery.” Patrick muttered, still not facing Pete and clearly uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. “We’ll go out to dinner and then I’ll catch you up on the calculus you missed, and then you’ll go to bed and we’ll fly home tomorrow morning.”

“Are you sure?” Pete frowned.

“Uh huh.”

“Alright then, whatever you want Sunshine. I saw what I saw, I understand now, you don’t have to keep things from me anymore. I _understand_.”

“No, you don’t.” Patrick responded quickly. “And whatever you think you saw, just forget about it. It doesn’t matter, and I’m pretty sure they gave me some weird drugs or something. You don’t understand.”

“Sunshine, I’m your boyfriend. You can trust me.” Pete tried.

Patrick just exhaled slowly and slumped back into his chair. “Pete, the only person I’ve ever trusted more than you would be my Mom. And that’s… pushing it a little. I know it seems that I’m being super secretive, just know that you know more than anyone and just… it’s a lot and it kinda makes me nervous how much you know already. So, just, yeah. Please.”

Pete just took Patrick’s hand back. “I love you. I’d never break your trust. I promise.”

Patrick just turned around and kissed him.

\-----------

Okay, so it probably the nicest thing to do, and it was probably pushing Patrick’s trust just a little, but asking Patrick about what exactly happened at Ryan’s place while he was drugged up on the plane was the best chance Pete had at getting some actual answers.

Kevin gave Patrick a new notebook to fill with mathematic equations and a big hug when he dropped them off at the airport. He did seem genuinely upset to have to say goodbye to his brother again, but seemed to cheer up as Pete held his hand as they walked through the airport and Pete bought him a donut. 

“Mom will be glad to see us.” Pete made light conversation. “She loved the photos of the two of us wearing the suits. I wouldn’t be surprised if we got home and she’s framed it.”  
Patrick chuckled slightly. “She’s amazing.”

“Yeah.” Pete smiled. “Are we gonna go back to school tomorrow or spend a day off to like, recover?”

At the word ‘recover’, Patrick frowned. “We’ll go back. We’ve had more than enough time off.”

“Okay.” Pete nodded in agreement. “I think we’re getting the big music task tomorrow anyway.”

“Aren’t all music tasks big?”

“Yeah, but this one is _huge_. It’s like, the biggest of the big.” Pete explained. “It’s like 50% of our final grade, and really has an effect on the rankings of the class and stuff. It’s like the decider as to who gets the college scholarship and stuff. Like it’s _huge._ ”

“Oh, wow.” Patrick looked down at his donut.

“Yeah.” Pete smiled. “But it’s a free composition, so we can write about whatever we want. And we’ve got a whole month, so I’m feeling pretty confident.”

“Has Professor Hoppus released the current rankings at the moment?” Patrick asked.

“At the moment, you and I are tied at the top. Then it’s Dallon, Gerard, Hayley, Brendon, Nicole, and Josh.” Pete read from his phone screen. “So I think we’re in a pretty good spot.”

“You need the scholarship to go to music school, don’t you?”

“Um, well, yeah, I guess so.” Pete shrugged awkwardly.

Patrick just nodded, took the last bite of his donut and got up to throw the rubbish out. “C’mon, let’s go to the gate.”

It was hard for Pete not to be worried about him, he seemed so sad and distant today. He took a handful of pills from his container and stared out the window at the plane in silence until they were called to board. 

They were in the back this time, and Patrick took the window seat. They ended up pulling the armrest between them up, and Patrick settled down with his head on Pete’s shoulder for the flight, not even bothering to pull his math books out.

“Tired?” Pete put an arm around him.

“Mmmm.” Patrick murmured, giving a sleepy blink.

“Does this always happen with those… things you do?”

“Deprivation studieessss.” Patrick whispered. “Uh huh. They’re _terrible_ Pete, I’m _never ever ever_ doing one _ever_ againnn.”

“Aww.” Pete frowned, before realising that he could probably get some information out of his boyfriend when he was in this state. “Do they hurt or something?”

“So _bad_.” Patrick sniffled, rubbing his eye out of habit. “It _burns_ and it itches and I just don’t _like_ it.” He folded his arms.

“Is this why you don’t like doctors? Because they make you do stuff like this?”

Patrick shook his head, but didn’t go into any detail. Pete frowned, before quickly going back to the topic of the deprivation study in the hope for more information. “Why do your eyes turn yellow, Sunshine? I mean, I saw it, and I watched them turn back, but I don’t understand why they change in the first place.”

“It’s just what happens when theyyyyy don’t let me _runnn_ , Pete.” Patrick murmured. “The occipital lobe and the frontal lobe shuts down.”

“You’re gonna have to speak in English, Sunshine.”

“The parts of the brain.” Patrick ran a hand through his hair. “The personality bits and the sight bits and the decision making bits don’t work right and it’s suckish.”

“Oh.” Pete frowned and pulled him closer. “That sucks.”

“A-and then the wires and they know _everything_.” Patrick told Pete in a stage-whisper. “And Ryan made you _do_ it and now he’s _never ever_ gonna leave you _alone_ and it’s not _fair_ because you’re _perfect_ and I don’t want them to _take_ you.”

“I’m far from perfect.” Pete chuckled.

“No, you are perfect!” Patrick told him loudly, and several passengers around them turned to stare. “And Ryan’s gonna want you for _everything_ and it’s not _fair_!”

“Ryan can’t make me do anything, don’t worry, okay?” Pete pulled Patrick closer and stroked his hair to soothe him. “You’re like, super high, and super tired, so why don’t you try and get some sleep, okay? I’ll wake you up when we’re home.”

“I don’t _ever_ want to go home.” Patrick mumbled, putting his glasses in his pocket and snuggling up to Pete.

Pete just kissed the top of his head and continued to stroke his hair in the hope he’d drift off. Eventually he stopped squirming and Pete assumed he’d fallen asleep, but that idea was quickly put aside when Pete noticed Patrick chewing on his hoodie sleeve.

“Dude!” He pushed Patrick off and made a face. “Sunshine, that’s gross! Don’t, don’t fucking _chew_ on me, okay?”

Patrick blinked a few times, clearly unaware of what was going on. Pete looked at his slobbery sleeve, then back up at his confused friend, before sighing and remembering all the times Patrick had tried to chew on his clothing back when they were in that deprivation study.

“You said something about different parts of your brain shutting down during the study.” Pete wiped his sleeve with a tissue from the pocket pack his mother had made him bring. “They haven’t really fully started up again, have they?”

“It, it takes two weeks…”

“Right.” Pete sighed. “Okay. That’s, that’s fine. Sorry for freaking out. You’re not like… trying to be gross, you’re just like… exhausted and sick.”

Patrick thought about that for a moment. “Um….”

Pete leaned back in the chair and held his arms open. “C’mon, go back to sleep. I’m sorry I freaked.”

Patrick didn’t need to be asked twice, and soon enough was snuggled back in Pete’s arms and dozed off. Eventually Pete noticed him chewing his hoodie again, but didn’t have the heart to wake him up this time. Patrick just needed a bit of time to recover, and if a damp spot on his hoodie for a few hours was all it took to make him feel better, then Pete would give it in a heartbeat.

Pete ended up having to carry him off the plane, not that Patrick minded. When they got out into the terminal, he did manage to stand on his own two feet again. He didn’t say anything, but Pete did keep an arm around him to keep him upright as they made their way to the baggage collection.

They were some of the last there, considering Patrick had stumped 4 times on the way, and by the time they got there there was another man standing with Patrick’s yellow suitcase. He smiled at the boy under Pete’s arm, and Pete swore he felt Patrick tense up. “C-Clarence.”

“Hey buddy.” Clarence smiled, a little too cheerfully for Pete’s liking. “Ready to come home?”

“He’s not going home with you.” Pete told Clarence quickly. “He’s not feeling good and I’m taking him home.”

“Pete, I know you want to be the amazing boyfriend, but I’m telling you now, you don’t know how to treat him in this condition.” Clarence responded, taking Patrick into his own arms. “He needs to come with me. I’ve got a treatment plan from Ryan and everything. He’s better off coming home.”

Patrick gave up on trying to stand and sat himself down on the floor next to his suitcase, looking up at his boyfriend and his guardian with a very confused look on his face. Pete bit his lip nervously and tried to figure out what the best course of action was. Sure, Clarence was probably better trained to look after him, but Pete’s Mom was a nurse and Patrick had told him on the plane that he didn’t want to go home...

Clarence looked at the spot on Pete’s hoodie and sighed. “He’s been chewing again, hasn’t he?”

“Uh…”

With a sigh he pulled out his wallet, and handed Pete a 20 to buy another hoodie, before tucking it away and turning to Patrick. “C’mon, let’s go home before you try and eat anything else.”

“Don’t talk to him like that!” Pete frowned. “He’s, he’s just not himself right now, but he still has emotions and stuff. He doesn’t like it.”

“Your mother is in the pick up area.” Clarence informed Pete, before taking Patrick and the yellow suitcase and getting in the carpark elevator.

Pete was just left standing alone and confused. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to say goodbye.

\----------

Sure enough, Patrick was back at school the next day with a smile on his face, and his balance restored. He smiled and took notes and giggled when the music class was given their big assignment, gave exciting tales to his group at lunch about their time at the Graduate’s ball in LA, and informed them about the soccer unit that everyone was doing in PE, and that he was really enjoying it. 

Pete would never understand how his boyfriend could jump from one personality to another just like that. It was a relief that he wasn’t held down by everything that had happened, but also slightly off-putting. Patrick had told him on the plane that it was going to take him a full two weeks to recover. Sure, he was his usual, sunny self on the outside, but how was he feeling behind his armour of positivity?

Not that Pete got a chance to ask. He was surrounded with his army of friends all day, and Pete really didn’t think he’d appreciate all the talk about the deprivation study in front of those people.

It wasn’t until after lunch, when Pete was in math, that something proved odd. There was a knock at the door, and the principal walked in, Patrick trailing behind with his arms folded and a not-very-happy look on his face. The principal then announced to the class that Patrick would be joining them for the remainder of the semester, and then sent him to sit down.

He sat beside Pete and sighed, pulling a yellow exercise book out of his bag and placing it on the desk.

“What happened? Did you get moved up from freshman math?” Pete asked.

“I got kicked out of freshman math for correcting Mr Campbell too much.” Patrick sighed. “I should’a just been quiet.”

“Hey, well, look, it’s not that bad? You can help me now.” Pete joked. 

Patrick just sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I’m just going home after school.”

“Are you sure? Mom really wants to see you…”

“I’m just not feeling great, okay? And I need some treadmill time.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s fine then.” Pete assured. “I’m surprised you’re even here today, considering-“

Patrick pressed a finger to Pete’s lips and gave him a deathly glare. “We _don’t_ talk about it.”

“Oh, right, not in public…”

“No, _ever_.” Patrick told him sternly. “We don’t _ever_ talk about it. Pretend it didn’t happen. It _didn’t_ happen. Got it?”

“Got it….”


	29. Pete works on his music assignment, Patrick still fears doctors, and eventually everyone gets together for a fun birthday celebration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: implied rape

There was no doubt about it. The big music assignment was _big_. And the stress was written over the face of every member of the music class.

When the door opened, everyone would run to be the first to one of the three recording studios that the school had. Everyone was constantly sipping on red bull or coffee to keep themselves awake and trying to make these songs absolutely perfect. The café where they used to all sit and get milkshakes together was filled every afternoon, but with everyone sitting at a separate table with their headphones on and continuing to work.

Pete loved his song, so far, but it still needed more work. He loved the lyrics he’d put with it, he loved the bass lines and he loved the overall aesthetic that it gave off. It truly represented him as a person, and drawing from his biggest inspirations, the pop-punk ballad he’d made was something he truly loved. 

But it was still rough. He’d recorded it more times than he could count, but every time it was never _perfect_. Like everyone else in the class, this assignment had taken over his entire life. He went home each night and him and Patrick would sit in his bedroom, trying to get this done. He worked on it during his other classes, and through the weekends, and stayed up late to adjust melodies.

Patrick didn’t let himself stress over it. Sure, it was a big assignment, and yeah, he wanted to do well, but he didn’t want the top mark for this. Everyone else in his class hard worked for years to get to this point, and this was their future in one song. If Pete got top marks, then Pete would win his scholarship. Patrick didn’t even need to earn scholarships anymore. He send a letter to any school in the country, they’d type his name into google and send him a scholarship in express post the next business day. He’d seen it happen.

So he was bludging this assignment. Yeah, sure, his song was alright, but it certainly wasn’t his favourite thing. He left a few notes out of place, a couple of guitar riffs sounding like they didn’t quite belong, but still at a level that wouldn’t arise suspicion that he was actually bludging it. It was working so far. Pete didn’t suspect anything, neither did Professor Hoppus. He’d just told Patrick that he needed to put a little more time in to get to his usual level of brilliance.

Patrick just spent that time helping Pete with his assignment instead.

\------

The distraction of the music assignment didn’t take away Pete’s plans to make Patrick’s birthday the best thing that had happened to him this year. He hadn’t been, well, the same since that trip to LA. Sure, Pete had realised he’d been part of the problem by shoving questions at him 24/7, but since the day where Patrick had simply gotten up and stormed out of the Wentz house after refusing to answer any questions, he’d refrained. He didn’t know what was going on, and he didn’t know why Patrick was acting the way he was, but he did know he could do something to make it better.

He was gonna throw Patrick a birthday party.

He’d called Kevin and run the idea past him, and Kevin agreed that it would probably make Patrick the happiest kid on earth. So he’d fumbled together some invites, organised a table at the café where they always hung out for the 27th of April, and got to inviting all of Patrick’s friends.

“So the kid has _never_ had a birthday party?” Brendon asked in disbelief.

“Uh huh.” Pete nodded, passing out invitations. “And it’s a surprise so don’t tell him. Y’know, last year he didn’t even get to celebrate his birthday because he had to do exams for his economics degree. And he’s _never_ had a birthday party, or even been to one.”

“Seriously?” Josh asked. “He’s never even been invited to someone elses?”

“Nope.” Pete confirmed. “So we’re gonna make this the best fucking surprise party that’s ever existed. Mom’s getting like, yellow balloons and stuff, and then I think Nicole’s gonna bake the cake, and we’re all gonna meet at the café after school next Wednesday to celebrate. He gets out a half hour after us, so we’ll have to run and set up, but I think it’s gonna work.”

Brendon nodded. “Let’s do it.”

\-------------

Everything was just a blur of doctors and brain scans and dizziness and confusion for Patrick.

The days blurred together and not a lot made a whole lot of sense. Sometimes he was as school, sometimes he was at Pete’s house, and sometimes he was at home where Clarence had brought over different doctors and different professors and different surgeons and it was all just a blur. He knew that something had gone wrong, but his head was too hazy to really figure out what that was. So he’d just sit and do as he was told and let Clarence deal with everything.

Not that he really had a choice.

Today there were lots of doctors in his basement, their clipboards and ties at his eyelevel as they wrote things down while looking at the results of the latest EEG scan. He just laid flat on the observation bed in the office and groaned whenever things were too loud, or too bright. Occasionally he felt he hands on his wrists, checking his pulse, and hands on his cheeks or on his chest. He liked the person that kept stroking his hair. That was nice. Except if they turned out to be a doctor. He didn’t like doctors.

“Dr Cooper.” Clarence scolded. “Don’t get attached.”

“I’m not!” The hair stroking stopped, and Patrick frowned. “He’s just hurting, and look, if it helps him feel better right now, then it’s fine. It’s _your_ errors that caused this in the first place.”

“ _My_ errors!? This isn’t my fault!” Clarence shouted, and Patrick flinched. “He’s never taken this long to bounce back from a deprivation study!”

“You’re the one that decided to give him Adderall before he fully recovered!”

Patrick groaned and shoved his fingers in his ears. These people were _way_ too noisy. 

“Under orders from Ryan!” Clarence defended. “I’m just doing my job!”

When Patrick started crying, the hair stroking started again and somebody gently laid a blanket over him, which was nice. The air conditioning in this room was always too cold, and they never let him wear a coat over the wires. But this blanket was soft and warm and he pulled it right up over his face to hide from the doctors.

“Hey buddy, sorry, we gotta keep an eye on your breathing.” Someone pulled the blanket down, and Patrick frowned and tried to bite at the fingers that were so near his face. He didn’t get them, but nobody touched the blanket again after that.

“I think we’ve just gotta get him back on his treadmill. See if that kick-starts anything.” Someone suggested.

“He’s not in any shape to run right now, Dr Winstant.” Patrick’s gentle hair-stroker told them. “He’s hardly conscious.”

“Well, he’s proven he’s not gonna be able to sleep it off, so I think this is what we’re gonna have to do.”

“He’s managed to get himself to school, and his boyfriend’s house daily since the study.” Clarence informed the team. “So I think he can _handle_ some treadmill time.”

“It’s not the same and you know it.” Dr Cooper told them, but it was clear she was outnumbered.

Patrick groaned and shook his head when they pulled him up from the bed and put a shirt on him. Then someone put his running shoes on his feet, and someone else put the wires in his head and in his arms and on his chest, and Patrick just whined in pain and tried to push everyone away. It didn’t work. Not when he hardly had enough energy to keep his head up.

“There you go, sweetie.” Dr Cooper finished tying his shoe and passed him a plastic cup of water. After dropping it the first few times, she held it to his lips and he drank greedily. She seemed sad as she watched him, and Patrick realised he probably hated her a little less than the other doctors. “Do you understand what’s happening? You’re just gonna run for a little bit and Clarence thinks it might help you feel a little better.”

Patrick shook his head and tried to get across that he really didn’t want to run right now, but the doctor just sighed sadly and brushed some of his hair to the side. “It’s only for a few minutes, and then you can go to bed, okay?”

“N-Nuh uh…”

“I’ll never understand how they can justify this.” She sighed, helping him to his feet and steadying him when his balance wasn’t working right. “They just think that now your Mom’s not here to stop them, they have the right to test whatever they want on you.”

When they put him on the treadmill, he had to hold the handle tightly to stop himself from falling over. Everyone was watching him, and he tried to focus on staying upright.

“ _Slowly._ ” Dr Cooper told Clarence sternly.

“Yeah, yeah, start slow.” Clarence rolled his eyes and pushed start.

Patrick did manage to keep up with the treadmill for a full 15 seconds, and then it threw him off and straight back into the brick wall. 

There were hands all over him while he cried, lights shone in his eyes and an ice pack pressed gently to the arm he’d landed on. He heard Dr Cooper yelling at someone, and then he heard a door shut and that voice was gone. Then he felt someone else pick him up, and then there was a yellow cast on his wrist, and then the doctor was taking his shirt off. And then his pants off. And even though the doctor told him that it was to check he hadn’t broken anything, it was clearly not the case. Patrick didn’t have the words to tell him to stop or the strength to fight back.

All the doctors told Patrick they were there to look after him and keep him safe and heathy. But they’d broken that trust too many times for Patrick to ever believe them again.

\-------

“What happened to your fucking hand, Sunshine?!” Pete asked him at school.  
Patrick sighed and ran his fingers over his cast. “I fell off the treadmill again and Clarence had to take me to the emergency room.”

“Oh, no… that sucks.” Pete frowned. “By the way, Happy Birthday!”

Patrick blinked. “Is that today?”

“27th of April?”

“Yeah.”

“Then it’s today.” Pete smiled, hugging him tightly and pecking a quick kiss to his cheek. “Happy Birthday!”

Patrick giggled at the sudden affection and kissed Pete in return. “Thanks.”

“It sucks you have to sit through double math on your birthday.” Pete responded with a smile. “But hey, we get to spend more time together.”

“Yeah.” Patrick smiled warmly, taking Pete’s hand. “Let’s go.”

The amount of attention that Patrick received for his birthday was something he didn’t expect in his wildest dreams. Sure, he was used to people staring at him, but that was down to the way he dressed and acted. Today, pretty much every person in the halls wished him a happy birthday as they passed, and his locker was covered in yellow sunflowers and birthday cards. And when he opened it to grab his math textbook, at _least_ 20 birthday cards fell out onto the floor.

“Did you have something to do with this?” He asked, looking up at Pete with a smile on his face.

Pete giggled. “Maybe.”

Patrick was very quiet through the day, but Pete put that down to embarrassment. He blushed every time someone wished him a happy birthday, and went red as a tomato when Pete got the table to sing to him at lunch. It was cute, and Pete was just glad that Patrick was having a good day.

Patrick was just glad for the distraction from the storm in the back of his mind.  
When the day ended, Patrick was oh-so-very tired, like he had been for the past few weeks. He could generally keep himself up during the day, but as soon as that final bell rang, he was ready to go home and crash onto his bed. He probably wouldn’t sleep, but he’d rest, and that was all he really wanted right now.

_Pete: Meet us at the café!!! Birthday milkshakes!!!_

Patrick groaned internally and rubbed his eyes. Hopefully this wouldn’t take too long. And hopefully Clarence wouldn’t be mad at him for staying out later. And hopefully he wouldn’t crash in the middle of birthday milkshakes.

“Did Pete text you?” Hillary smiled, approaching him after homeroom.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m headed over now.” Patrick sighed.

“Okay, cool.” She smiled, before her face fell. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just a headache.” Patrick forced a smile. 

“Want some aspirin?”

“I’m alright, thanks though.”

“Alright, well, I guess I’ll see you for dinner then.” Hillary smiled, hugging him tightly before heading off with her friends. Patrick hoped that didn’t mean that Dale wanted him for dinner. He was crashing already, and it would be a stretch to pull himself through milkshakes without the added problems of dinner.

He wandered to the café slowly, trying assure himself that this was fine and he was going to be able to pull himself through this. It was just a milkshake with Pete. He could do that, right?

But when he walked through the door, and all his friends leapt out and screamed “SURPRISE!”, it was clear that it was a very different event to what he had pictured.

It was for the better, no doubt. The little café was covered in yellow balloons, yellow streamers, yellow confetti and a big yellow banner reading ‘Happy Birthday Patrick!’. The entire music class was there, wearing huge smiles and yellow party hats, and although Patrick was mentally and physically exhausted, he couldn’t help but giggle in delight and run to hug them all.

They’d all bought him presents, and there were even more birthday cards. They shared a cake with yellow icing, and sipped on birthday milkshakes while hanging out and generally having a good time. Patrick smiled and giggled along with everyone for the first hour, before he felt himself starting to go.

“Hey, Sunshine, are you okay?” Pete asked quietly, taking his hand.

“I-I’m not feeling gr-great…” Patrick admitted, putting a hand to his forehead and hoping the café might stop spinning.

“Oh, that sucks…” Pete frowned. “We’ve only got the table for another half hour anyway, we can just spend the night watching movies and stuff.”

“I-I-…” Patrick gulped nervously. “D-Do you mind if I just go home?”

“Is it a _that_ type of not feeling great?” Pete frowned slightly, thinking of the birthday feast his mother was cooking up at home.

“Yeah.” Patrick mumbled, staring down at his lap.

“Yeah, that’s fine Sunshine. Do you want a ride?” 

Ride. Patrick had to think about it for a minute. “U-Uh, no, I’ll be okay…”

“Okay, that’s alright.” Pete kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Patrick breathed.

\---------

Patrick lugged his presents and the remants of the cake home from the café, and stumbled in through the front door to where Clarence was waiting. “Where’ve you been?!”

“With my friends.” Patrick mumbled, stumbling into a chair and resting his head on the table. “It’s my birthday.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right.” Clarence chuckled, before shaking his head. “But still, I told you I needed you straight home today. I had to send all the others home because _you_ were fucking late.”

“I’m sorry.” Patrick croaked.

“Yeah, well, sometimes you gotta think about other people.” Clarence snapped, before turning to Patrick’s bag and going through his stuff until he found the rest of the cake. “I’m confiscating this.”

Patrick didn’t have the energy to argue, and just sat at the table and watched his caregiver eat the rest of his birthday cake while guilt for missing dinner with Dale ran through him.


	30. Patrick’s still fighting the mystery illness, and trying to keep it away from everyone, but eventually Pete breaks through and manages to delve a little deeper into the mystery.

Patrick had never experienced anything like this in his 15 years on this planet. His somewhat perfect immunity protected him from most illness, and anything he did manage to contract was always gone within a few days. But whatever this complication was that made everything blur together and hard to understand was a completely new experience.

He’d still been managing to drag himself to school, but he could tell everyone was noticing that he wasn’t quite himself. The dull ache in the back of his head made sitting through lunchtime conversations absolute torture, and class wasn’t that much better. Even though he could power through an entire worksheet of math in less than 5 minutes, his head was spinning and the page seemed a little blurry. And it wasn’t because his eyesight was getting worse.

“Hey, is everything okay Sunshine?” Pete put a hand on his arm when he stopped writing. “You’re not looking too good.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Patrick mumbled, pulling his hand away. It was a downright lie, he wasn’t doing very well at all, but he didn’t need to worry Pete right now. Not after how he’d had to disappoint Pete after all Pete had done for him on his birthday yesterday.

“Do you wanna go to the bathroom?” Pete suggested. “Get some fresh air, maybe? Or go lie down in the nurse’s office?”

“I’m f-fine.” Patrick lied, putting a hand to his head in the hope that the world might stop spinning.

Pete just pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. He knew Patrick wasn’t being truthful, but he also knew that math class probably wasn’t the best place to discuss these things. He’d talk to him after school about it. 

During music, Patrick laid on the lounge in the corner next to the instrument cupboard and stared at the ceiling for the hour they’d been given to work on their assignments. Pete was too wrapped up in his own work to notice, but eventually Professor Hoppus wandered over and shoved a hall pass to the nurse’s office into Patrick’s hand. 

“Alright, off you go. I know it feels like you should be here because you’ve got a lot of work to do, but you know as well as I do that you’re not going to get a whole lot done while you’re sick.” The professor folded his arms, and Patrick scrambled to his feet to hand the note back.

“I-I’m alright, I just, I’m fine!” He tried to shove it back, but Professor Hoppus shook his head. Patrick panicked, and pulled out the big guns. “T-There’s just a lot going on at home and I haven’t s-slept in 3 days, and I, I can’t go home yet, okay?”

“3 days?!”

“Shh!” Patrick hushed him. “J-Just, please.”

“Do you think it might be wise to go and speak to the school councillor?” Professor Hoppus offered, looking mighty concerned.

“No, no, it’s not that kind of stuff.”

“It sure sounds like it is, if it means that you haven’t slept in 3 days.”

Patrick sighed and scuffed his shoe on the floor in frustration. “I-, just trust me with this one, okay?”

“For one time only.” Proffessor Hoppus stated, and Patrick breathed a sigh of relief. “Next time though, you’re going to speak to someone.”

“Thank you.” Patrick breathed, sitting back down on the couch.

“We’ve got…. 34 minutes until lunch. That gives you about an hour of nap time before your next class if you need it.” Professor Hoppus gave him a smile, and tossed him a pillow from his desk chair. 

Patrick just smiled in response.

\------

As much as Patrick wish he did, he didn’t sleep through the time that Professor Hoppus had given him access to the lounge in the music room. He did lie there, blankly staring at the ceiling and letting his breathing wash over him, letting himself be still, but it didn’t give way to any sleep. By the time the bell rang and it was time for biology, he was even more tired then when he’d laid down in the first place.

Tossing his legs to the floor and pulling himself up, it was clear that his balance was out the window. Stumbling over to the desk, he muttered several French swear words and tried to straighten up. _C’mon, you’ve only got one class left and then you can go home. Then you can sleep._

That was a lie, who was he kidding here? Apparently even _Ryan_ was flying out to check up on his darling subject after all this had been going on. Patrick groaned. That probably meant another run, which probably meant another fall, almost certainly more blood samples, and almost certainly more brain scans. 

Patrick was really dreading going home this afternoon. Especially if he was already past walking by lunchtime.

Using the mess of desks and chairs, he managed to lug himself out of the music room. Then he somewhat managed to hug the wall and the banks of lockers on the way to the biology lab. He did fall a couple of times, but the bricks had good grip to them, and he managed to pull himself up. Even if it meant his hands were scratched to hell. The pain was nothing compared to the tornado of a headache in his skull.

Stumbling in, he quickly sat on the chair next to Hillary and rested his head on the desk with a groan. _Only one more hour. I just have to make it through the next hour._

“Patrick?” Hillary asked, putting a hand on his back. “Are you feeling okay buddy?”

Patrick just groaned in response, unable to find the words to formulate a response.

“Um… that sucks then.” She gently took his hat off and placed it on the table next to him, of which Patrick was grateful. Eventually he ended up resting his head on her shoulder, it was a lot softer than the desk, and she didn’t seem to mind.

“Do you wanna see the nurse or something, ‘Tricky?” she asked, looking down at the top of his head. “You’re being weird.”

No, he didn’t want to see the nurse. He didn’t want to see anyone. He just wanted for whatever this was to be gone. And as much as everyone else believed that the nurse would know, the fact was that no-one knew what to do. Clarence had no idea what was going on. All the doctors through Patrick’s house were scratching their heads in confusion and trying to figure out how to fix their test subject. Now they were calling in Ryan as a last resort to figure out how to help him. Patrick was just starting to wish he’d finished his medical degree so he’d know how to fix himself.

“P-Pete.” He whispered.

“I can text him?” Hillary offered, pulling her phone out. “He’s in class right now though…”

Patrick just groaned and rested his head back on the table. _Only 55 more minutes._

\--------

Patrick didn’t remember what happened after biology. All he remembered was waking up in Pete’s bed, his boyfriend sitting at the desk in the corner working on his music assignment, and the setting sun through the window.

“P-Pete?” Patrick managed, pushing himself into a sitting position and pretending the dizziness didn’t bother him.

“Hey, Sunshine!” Pete rushed to his side and flopped onto the bed beside him. “Feeling any better?”

“What happened?” He groaned and pressed a hand to his head, massaging his temples before leading back on Pete’s shoulder.

“You passed out in biology, according to my sister. Then, um, I don’t know, she took you to the nurse, and then Professor Hoppus apparently told the nurse that you had told him that you hadn’t slept in 3 days and that was the reason why you passed out, and then apparently you also told him that you didn’t want to go home, because apparently there was something going on? And then my sister stepped forward and announced that you’re almost always over at our place, and then eventually they just let you sleep for the rest of the day until I was done in English and then they called me and got me to take you home. Then I let you sleep in my bed because Mom’s not home yet and, yeah.”

Patrick groaned. God knows what the nurse and Professor Hoppus thought now. He’d almost certainly have to try and convince some sort of councillor that he wasn’t being abused at home now. Ugh.

Pete gently ran a hand over the cast still covering Patrick’s hand, his mind dotted with possibilities. Patrick sighed again. “I’m fine, Pete. My treadmill just like, eats me up every now and then. They’re dangerous machines.”

“Sunshine, I’m over the lies.” Pete told him. “I’m sick of not knowing what’s ever going on with you. I’m your fucking boyfriend, right? I want to spend the time we have apart thinking about how much I miss you, not thinking about whether some asshole is hitting you or if you’re hurt again. I promise, whatever’s going on, there’s something Mom or I can do to fix it. C’mon, Sunshine, just _trust_ me.”

“I can’t tell you what’s going on because I don’t know what it is.” Patrick groaned, clutching his head as another bolt of pain stabbed through it. “T-There’s been, like, c-complications after t-the- A-AH!”

“Sunshine?!” Pete grabbed his hand. “What’s wrong?!”

“J-Just, h-headaches.” Patrick muttered, staring down at his lap.

“Right.” Pete gently stroked his hair, letting the fine strands of cinnamon blonde wisp through his fingers. “Do you want some aspirin or something?”

“W-won’t help.” Patrick responded, leaning into Pete’s touch.

“Right. So, complications? You said?” 

“N-Normally it doesn’t take t-too long to recover b-but it took m-much longer a-and, and then C-Clarence gave me the w-wrong growth s-stunter and it, it just messed up _everything_.”

“What the fuck is fucking _growth stunter _, Sunshine!?”__

__Patrick groaned and shoved a hand over Pete’s mouth, hoping to god he’d be quieter. “I-It’s just a precaution.”_ _

__“Precaution? For what?” He paused a moment, seething with anger. “That’s why you’re so fucking small, isn’t it?! They’ve fucking taken away your ability to grow tall!”_ _

__“Shh!” Patrick cried, holding his aching head. “Q-Quiet! Please!”_ _

__A wave of guilt rushed through Pete, and he quickly closed his mouth. He took Patrick into his arms and held him close, listening to his occasional whimpers of pain. When they finally slowed, he tried to continue his questioning._ _

__“So… the fucking growth stunters or whatever, what are they a precaution for?”_ _

__“Me.” Patrick muttered. “You’ve seen me. I’m _dangerous._ ”_ _

__“You’re a sweetheart who likes the colour yellow and music.” Pete corrected. “Seriously, what the hell?”_ _

__“I-It’s, it’s getting worse, Pete.” Patrick admitted dismally. “T-The, the thing you saw in LA. It takes l-less time for m-me to build up t-to that and it’s h-harder to get me out of it a-and I, they just w-wanna make sure they c-can keep me controlled in the f-future if I can’t like, break out of it…”_ _

__The statement hung in the air._ _

__“That’s, that’s just, fucking…” Pete fumbled for the right word. “ _Disgusting._ ”_ _

__Patrick just shrugged glumly. “I-It’s fine.”_ _

__“No, it’s not! You don’t, you shouldn’t have to do that! Who the fuck are these assholes? You can take them out, Sunshine, I know you can!”_ _

__“No, I can’t.” Patrick responded quickly._ _

__“Sunshine, I just, I can’t fucking believe this.” Pete stammered._ _

__Patrick sighed. “A-Anyway, the m-medicine did something to my h-head and I don’t know, it’s made me, sick, I guess. B-But not, sick sick. It’s hard to explain.”_ _

__“Fuck.”_ _

__“Pretty much, yeah.”_ _

__“How long has this been going on, Sunshine?” Pete asked._ _

__“Um… since we got back, really…”_ _

__“So an entire month?” His stomach dropped._ _

__“I-I don’t wanna miss out on any school or anything.” Patrick whispered. “I-It’s, it’s all I’ve got, and I’ve b-been doing okay, it’s just really tiring and normally I’m exhausted by the end of the day but t-today I just, I guess I clocked out early.”_ _

__“You’re not going to school tomorrow.” Pete told him sternly._ _

__“I-I’ll be fine.”_ _

__“No, you’re not, and Mom will agree with me.”_ _

__“But I am?”_ _

__“Stop lying.” Pete told him. “I’m over the lies, Sunshine.”_ _

__“Fine.” Patrick muttered._ _

__“Good.” Pete smiled._ _

__“But don’t tell your Mom.”_ _

__“What? But she’s like, a nurse, she can help.”_ _

__Patrick shook his head uncomfortably. “She can’t. She doesn’t know that I’m like, different. And she doesn’t need to know. Nobody needs to know. To everyone else, I’m fine. Got it?”_ _

__“You’re a weirdo, you know that?”_ _

__Patrick just nodded._ _

__\--------_ _

__It was about 8pm when the doorbell rang. Patrick had just finished helping Dale with the dishes, and had settled down in front of the TV with Pete to watch Star Wars, when Dale answered the door and a familiar voice filled the room._ _

__“Hi, I’m Clarence, I’m Patrick’s stepfather? Sorry for the intrusion, I’m just here to get my stepson, who _promised_ he’d come straight home when school ended.”_ _

___What the hell? How did Clarence get here? How did Clarence know where Pete lived? Oh no._ _ _

__“Oh, sorry, he didn’t mention that.” Dale’s voice was laced in confusion as she turned around. “Ricky? Your, um, your Clarence is here for you.”_ _

__Pete grabbed Patrick’s hand. “He’s not going anywhere, Mom.”_ _

__“I-It’s fine, Pete.” Patrick pushed him off. “I’ll just go get my stuff.”_ _

__Walking to Pete’s room, Pete couldn’t help but notice Patrick’s slight limp, and the way he sat down on Pete’s bed as soon as he had the chance._ _

__“Sunshine, I’ll send him away, you don’t have to go with him. Especially not if he, fucking, like, did this to you.”_ _

__“No, it’s fine.” Patrick mumbled, slinging his bag on his pack and pecking a goodbye kiss to Pete’s lips. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, okay?”_ _

__“I better _not_ see you there. Stay home and sleep.” Pete instructed sternly._ _

__Patrick just smiled at him, before heading out of the bedroom to where Clarence and Dale were standing. Clarence didn’t look very happy. That wasn’t a good sign. Dale just looked worried, and hugged him goodbye, whispering a message into his ear when they were close. “Just call if you need anything, okay?”_ _

__Patrick just hugged her tightly._ _

__The flick behind the ear from Clarence as they walked away from the Wentz household was nothing compared to what was waiting for him at home._ _


	31. Pete worries, Brendon and Dallon arm-wrestle in the cafeteria, and the music assignments are handed in. Drama ensues.

Patrick wasn’t at school the next day. Pete couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Sure, it was good that he wasn’t here. The kid lying in Pete’s bed, clutching his forehead and crying out in pain probably needed a good few days of rest at home in bed. But at the same time, part of Pete suspected that that probably wasn’t what was happening wherever Patrick lived. All he knew was that Patrick wasn’t here. It was the not-knowing that scared him the most.

_8:32am: Hey Sunshine, glad you’re taking a day off to rest. Let me know if you need anything or if you need me to come over and punch somebody. Actually, you’re probably a better puncher than I am. Let me know if you need somebody to come over and offer moral support while you punch somebody. I love you <3 _

Math class seemed more dim than normal, but he did make an effort to try and keep up, especially that he didn’t have his own personal tutor sitting beside him. English literature was okay, they were doing poetry again, and he really liked to do that, but through every line he found himself being drawn back to the worry at the back of his mind.

_9:45am: Haven’t heard back, just checking in to check you’re all good . Math was boring, but it’s always boring. We did chapter 5B from the textbook if you wanna keep up with the rest of the class. Love you and miss you, Sunshine <3_

By the time it got to lunch, Pete was checking his phone every few minutes for a response. Still nothing. He sat in his old spot outside the science labs to eat the sandwich his mother made for him, still checking his phone and staring at the screen in the hope that something would change.

_Brendon: Where are you Petey-Boy? Josh and I are gonna arm wrestle for 100 bucks. We need a scorekeeper!_

_Pete: I’m doing schoolwork. Ask Elliot or Dallon or something._

_Brendon: :(((((((_

_Pete: I’m not coming, B._

_Brendon: sitting around and moping about your boyfriend isn’t going to do anything. We all know he’s been a bit sick this week. He’ll be fine. He’s sunshine. He’ll probably be back tomorrow._

Pete sighed. 

_Pete: How did you know what I was doing?_

_Brendon: you do this every time he’s away, Pete. Everyone knows you do it. I’m just not letting you sit and wallow in your own self pity. Get your ass to the cafeteria. It’s what Patrick would want for you_

_Pete: He’s not dead!_

_Brendon: I know, but still_

_Pete: fine ___

__Not that Pete would ever actually tell Brendon this, but the arm wrestle was kind of fun, even if it meant that Brendon was out 100 bucks and Josh was 100 bucks richer. Hayley just shook her head and told them both they had a gambling problem, but neither seemed to care. By the time the bell went and it was time for music, they were both laughing and were buddies again._ _

__Dallon and Brendon walked to music holding hands, and Pete’s hand felt remarkably empty without Patrick’s in it. But it was only one day. He’d call Patrick was soon as school was over and talk to him. Maybe he could convince Patrick to come over for the night…._ _

__His thoughts were ripped from his mind when he walked in and everyone started to place their completed music assignments on Professor Hoppus’s desk. He put his own complete one on there, but couldn’t stop staring at the one in the yellow folder._ _

__“His stepfather dropped it in this morning.” Professor Hoppus told him quietly. “From what I’ve heard, he’s not doing too well.”_ _

__“Sick?” Pete asked. “H-He’s not returning my texts.”_ _

__“The medical certificate on my desk gives him two weeks of sick leave.”_ _

__“Shit.”_ _

__Professor Hoppus glared at him, and Pete froze, before he just nodded in agreement. “Yeah, pretty much.”_ _

__“So, is he going to be away for the full 2 weeks?”_ _

__“I don’t know. I’d presume so, but he does have a remarkable ability to come even when he’s terribly ill.”_ _

__“Yeah.” Pete sighed. “I, I’m just worried.”_ _

__“I’ll let you know if I hear any updates.” He assured. “Don’t torture yourself, Pete. I’m sure he’s fine.”_ _

___2:45pm: Hey Sunshine, saw your music assignment was handed in today, I’m glad you got it in. I’m worried about you. Please come over. Or call me. Or just even text me back. I love you <3_ _ _

__\------------_ _

__Pete didn’t hear back from Patrick. It was a week of tossing and turning, nervous finger tapping, texts sent on the hour, almost begging for a response. There was nothing. Just growing worry in Pete’s stomach, and family dinners with an empty chair._ _

__Pete had almost convinced himself that Patrick was dying in a hospital bed somewhere, or had been sold off to child slavery, when the doorbell rang at 5:47am on Saturday morning. There was only one person he knew who thought that 5:47 was an appropriate time to show up at people’s houses. Not even bothering to pull a shirt on, he ran for the door and pulled it open._ _

__Patrick was dressed in long yellow sweatpants, and a big cuddly yellow hoodie, with yellow ugg boots and his winter yellow beanie topping his head. Pete wrapped him in the tightest hug he could, and tried to blink away a couple of tears. It had literally been a week. Pete wasn’t gonna cry._ _

__“Awww.” Patrick chuckled, gently rubbing his boyfriend’s back as the tears began to fall. “I’m glad to see you too.”_ _

__“D-Don’t ever fucking do that again!” Pete managed, pulling Patrick inside and out of the cold, before hugging him again._ _

__Patrick smiled and pressed a kiss to Pete’s lips to shut him up, before pulling away with a giggle. “I love you.”_ _

__“W-Why didn’t you respond to any of my messages!? I was so fucking worried, Sunshine! I thought you were like, dead!”_ _

__“Clarence took my phone.” Was all Patrick responded with._ _

__“Seriously?”_ _

__“Yeah.” He sighed and looked down at the floor. “I can’t say I’m in the good books right now.”_ _

__“But you’re here now, and that’s what matters.” Pete tackled him in another hug. “C’mon, I’m gonna make you breakfast.”_ _

__“I can’t stay for long…” Patrick murmured uncertainly._ _

__“What?”_ _

__“I have to be back before Clarence wakes up….”_ _

__“What? Did, did you run away?”_ _

__“Maybe?” Patrick smiled. “Look, I needed to see you, and I was feeling okay enough to get a bus this morning, and I just, yeah. I need to be home by… 7. And it takes about half an hour by bus so I’ve probably only got half an hour here before I’ve gotta go.”_ _

__“ _Dude._ ”_ _

__“It’s fine.” Patrick quickly assured him._ _

__“What the fuck are they even doing to you? You look fine to me.” Pete questioned, mixing his pancake batter._ _

__“I’ve looked fine every day at school since we got back from LA.” Patrick told him. “It’s just a mess. Nothing is really working that well, and, I just, yeah.”_ _

__“If you’re trying to be vague, it’s working.”_ _

__Patrick sighed. “You know how like, when you have a cold, everything gets kind of hazy and nothing really makes much sense and you’re not really, like, there?”_ _

__“Yeah?”_ _

__“Yeah.”_ _

__“For two months?!”_ _

__“I’m coping.” Patrick buried his hands in his hoodie pockets. “They’re just trying to figure out how to fix me.”_ _

__“Right…” Pete poured some batter into the pan._ _

__“Look, you don’t have to worry. They’re not hurting me. They’ve never hurt me.” Patrick tried to avoid the guilt for lying once again. “I’m just, I’ll be back at school on Wednesday, I think.”_ _

__“Will you be better then?”_ _

__“Probably not.” Patrick chuckled. “But I miss school. And I’m coping fine. Clarence just got sick of not having me around for 8 hours a day, so he put me in for 2 weeks sick leave. Which was annoying, but I’ll be back on Wednesday.”_ _

__“Sunshine, if you’re not like, _better_ , then maybe-“_ _

__“I’m fine.” Patrick cut him off. “I promise.”_ _

__“Okay…”_ _

__\-------------_ _

__Patrick was back on Wednesday as promised, and Pete reunited with him in the hall with a very public display of affection, only pulling away when Brendon whistled loudly and made them both go bright red._ _

__“You guys are so fucking _adorable_ , it’s sickly.” He laughed. “C’mon, we’re getting our music assignments back today!”_ _

__“Oh, that’s right!” Patrick beamed. “Are you ready to head off to music school?”_ _

__Pete blushed. “I mean, I…”_ _

__“You’re totally gonna get the scholarship.” Patrick kissed his cheek. “Your song was amazing. And you totally deserve it!”_ _

__“Your song was pretty great too, Sunshine.”_ _

__“But nowhere as good as yours.” Patrick squeezed his hand._ _

__“Pffft.”_ _

__“You’re gonna do amazing at college, Pete.” Patrick told him, smiling up sincerely. “I really think you’re gonna make it.”_ _

__“You think so?”_ _

__“I _know_ so.”_ _

__Sitting in music, the entire class was fidgeting nervously while Professor Hoppus handed back all the assignments, the tension so thick you could pop it with a pin. Pete held his breath, until a paper was slid in front of him. _A.__ _

__An A. He’d done it. Getting an A in this super competitive class was almost impossible. The grading scheme was so harsh. He’d only gotten a handful of A’s before. This was his golden ticket. He’d done it._ _

__At least he thought he had, until he looked up at the whiteboard, where the professor brought up the spreadsheet for the overall rankings._ _

___Number 8: Nicole Row_ _ _

___Number 7: Joshua Dun_ _ _

___Number 6: Gerard Way_ _ _

___Number 5: Hayley Williams_ _ _

___Number 4: Brendon Urie_ _ _

___Number 3: Dallon Weekes_ _ _

___Number 2: Peter Wentz_ _ _

___Number 1: Patrick Stump._ _ _

__“Sunshine, you fucking did it!” Brendon whooped from the back row. “You’re number 1!”_ _

__“What?” Confused crossed over Patrick’s face as he flipped through his assignment. “Sir, sir this is wrong! I’m not, this isn’t an A+. This is a B, for sure!”_ _

__“No, it’s not.” Professor Hoppus smiled at him. “I was very impressed. So were all the other music teachers. We cross-marked every assignment. And this is the final ranking.”_ _

__Pete sat in silence, looking down at his paper, then up at the ranking board. He’d put everything into this class. His hopes. His dreams. This was the only chance he had to do what he wanted to do. And, he wasn’t going to get a chance to do it. His dreams, and everything he had worked for, was going to Patrick._ _

__And he didn’t know how to feel._ _

__On one hand, good for Patrick! He’d worked hard, he was talented, he had been here through all the music lessons and put his heart and soul into this too. But on the other hand, that was _Pete’s_ scholarship. It was the only thing he had. Patrick already had 8 degrees. Patrick was already an achieved athlete. Patrick had already done everything, won all the awards, whereas all Pete had was this music scholarship. And it had been torn from his grip._ _

__He sat in silence for the rest of the lesson. The rest of the class celebrated with Patrick, who did seem a little uncomfortable, but Pete really wasn’t paying all that much attention. He just sat with his arms folded, thinking about his future. He was probably going to end up doing accounting like his father wanted him to. _Ugh.__ _

__He was still lost in his thoughts when the bell rang and it was time to go home. Patrick walked out beside him, not saying anything but wearing his signature sunshine smile. But for some reason, it didn’t make Pete’s heart melt today._ _

__“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”_ _

__“Hmm?” Patrick glanced up._ _

__“Eight degrees isn’t enough for you, nothing’s _ever_ enough for you.” Pete muttered. “It doesn’t matter who’s in your way. If you wanna go to music school, then you’re gonna go, doesn’t matter who you’re taking the scholarship from.”_ _

__“Pete, I-“_ _

__“Shut up.” Pete growled at him. “It doesn’t matter! You’re getting the fucking music scholarship, Patrick! You’re getting the thing that I’ve worked my entire life for! It doesn’t matter who it is, if you want to do music, then little fucking Patrick can walk straight in to whatever music class he wants and crush everyone else’s dreams so he can live out his own. What about the rest of us, huh!? Not everyone’s a fucking prodigy like you are! Not everyone can just do whatever they want because they’re lucky enough to be born with a fucking genius IQ! Music wasn’t your thing, Patrick! It was _my_ thing that _I_ worked for!”_ _

__“P-Pete…”_ _

__“No, don’t you dare cry!” Pete yelled. “You knew _exactly_ what you were doing! You knew what was on offer at the end of the program, you knew _exactly_ how hard I worked for it, you know _exactly_ how much it meant to me! And apparently none of that matters because you have exactly _no_ problem taking it from my clutches! I was so fucking close to my dreams and you just _took_ them from me, Patrick!”_ _

__“I-I’m, I-“_ _

__“I opened my fucking _home_ to you! You eat dinner with my family and you sleep at my house some nights and we even let you stay for Christmas! I shared my bed, my room, my family, my love, everything, and what, this is how you wanna share the love back?! I did _everything_ to help you! I got locked in a room with you for 48 hours when you were going fucking _manic_ and tried to kill people! You sprained my fucking hand before the Christmas concert and I forgave you for that! Do these things mean _nothing_ to you!?”_ _

__Patrick was starting to cry now, but Pete didn’t show any signs of stopping._ _

__“I’ve been there for you when you show up fucking _bleeding_ on my doorstep, I’ve put up with your bullshit and your lies and I even stayed when I found out how the government made you! I always thought it didn’t matter, you still had proper emotions and you were still super sweet, but after today, I’m not so sure. I don’t even think you’re _human._ ”_ _

__And with that, Patrick took off. He turned and ran, straight through the halls, straight out the front of the school, and out of sight before Pete even had a chance to realise what he’d said._ _

__Then the realisation hit, like an axe to the chest. Actually, more like 17 sledgehammers over his whole body. And when he turned, to find not only his entire music class, but all Patrick’s friends, and Professor Hoppus of all people, standing their with shock and disgust and confusion written all over their faces, Pete stumbled backwards. Oh god. What had he just said?!_ _

__

__

__

___4:51pm: Sunshine, I’m sorry…_ _ _


	32. Pete Tortures Himself and Patrick gets Tortured

After a very slow and long drive home, with shaking hands and a tornado of guilt storming around his head, Pete eventually walked through the front door alone and sighed when Dale called from the kitchen “Hey Boys! I made some cookies if you want some!”

“J-Just me, Mom.” Pete responded quietly, slumping into a chair at the kitchen bench and resting his head in his hands.

“Oh?” Dale asked, before seeing her son’s facial expression. “What happened, Pete?”

“Patrick and I had a fight…”

“What? Really? What over?”

Pete winced. “You know that scholarship that was on offer for the top student of the music class?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, Pete… you didn’t, did you?” The anxiety in her voice was obvious.

Pete sighed again. “I wasn’t thinking straight, Mom! A-And he got really upset a-and he ran off and I just, I…”

“Look, you two are really close…” Dale was trying to sound positive, and failing. “I’m sure you can sort it out tomorrow. Maybe you just need some space tonight.”

“Maybe.” Pete mumbled.

\--------------

It wasn’t a fact that Pete liked, but the sheer amount of apologies that he had undertaken had made him pretty damn good at them.

He was at school early the next day, and came prepared with a handwritten apology card (filled with some pretty deep poetry, if he did say so himself), a huge bunch of yellow flowers from the florist, and a very long apology speech he’d spent the better part of the night working on. He stood at Patrick’s locker, his head down and trying to ignore the many, many dirty glances he was getting from the student body. He already knew he’d fucked up, did they have to make it worse?!

When the bell went, and everyone shuffled into homeroom, Pete’s heart sunk in his chest. He should’ve guessed Patrick wouldn’t have shown up today. Not after Pete spilled his entire life story to the whole school. With a sigh, he tucked the flowers and the card into his own locker, and dragged himself to class. 

Brendon glared at him when he sat down in homeroom, and Pete just groaned and buried his face in his hands. “I fucked up.”

“Yeah. You did.” Brendon frowned, not offering a word of sympathy. “What the fuck, Pete?”

“I wasn’t thinking, okay?! I, I just…”

“Destroyed all his self esteem, ruined his image, humiliated him in front of his friends and made yourself look like a selfish prick?”

Pete glared at him.

“It’s true though.”

“I _know_ it’s true, but that still doesn’t mean you need to say it.”

Brendon sighed. “Look, I know you get firey and say things you don’t mean. He’ll come around. He’s fucking Sunshine after all, he literally melts into your arms. And he doesn’t exactly stay sad. He’ll probably be back tomorrow. Have you tried calling him?”

Pete checked his phone history. “46 times yesterday, 8 times this morning.”

“Okay, well, maybe he just needs a little more time. Lay off for a few days and then try again once he’s thought things through. I’ll give him a call.” Brendon suggested. “And who knows? He probably has his phone turned off. You know how sporadically he actually uses that stupid thing.”

“It rung out every time. It’s not off.” Pete mumbled.

“Then I’ll call after school.” Brendon assured him. “Sometimes space is all you need. Everything will work out, Pete. By the way, what on earth were you talking about when you told him that you didn’t even think he was human?”

Pete’s stomach dropped. “D-Did I say that?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ve got the whole thing on video.”

“BRENDON!”

Brendon held his hands up in surrender. “You know me, dude. I’ll delete it today, I promise. I haven’t sent it on.”

“Send it to me, then delete it.” Pete growled. “ _Now._ ”

Brendon shrugged, but did as requested because Pete could be a little scary when he wanted to be. “There. Done. Happy?”

Pete just grunted and slumped back into his chair. He doubted he’d ever be happy again.

\----------

_“I’ve been there for you when you show up fucking bleeding on my doorstep, I’ve put up with your bullshit and your lies and I even stayed when I found out how the government made you! I always thought it didn’t matter, you still had proper emotions and you were still super sweet, but after today, I’m not so sure. I don’t even think you’re human.”_

Pete groaned in frustration and threw his phone onto the bed. No wonder Patrick hadn’t picked up any one of his 158 calls today. What Pete had yelled at him, in front of everyone, was nothing short of disgusting. 

It was obviously clear that Patrick had some trust issues. It had taken him _months_ , and most of Pete’s own digging, to find answers to the questions he had about Patrick’s backstory. It was very clear that Patrick didn’t trust just anybody. But he _did_ put his faith in Pete. And Pete had taken that, smashed it on the pavement, spat on it, jumped on it, shattered the pieces, and then set fire to the remnants before walking away as if nothing had happened.

This wasn’t the kind of wrong that could be fixed with a bunch of flowers, like the time he called Brendon a whore in front of Dallon once. This was an emotional wound that would leave a nasty scar on Patrick for the rest of his life. The look on his boyfriend’s face in the footage Brendon had taken told everything.

The chances of Pete _ever_ getting Patrick’s trust back were starting to look pretty dismal.

There were so many things wrong with Pete’s stupid speech he made. He wouldn’t even let the kid open his mouth to defend himself. The only thing that Pete was thinking about in that moment was his stupid scholarship. Now, something like that hardly mattered. Hell, it never mattered in the first place. Pete didn’t want to be a world-class classical musician, he wanted to be a rock star. And how many rock stars did he know that went to music school? Zero.

_Brendon: Hey if you wanna take a break from calling Sunshine and begging for his forgiveness, lemme give you another reason to apologise_

_Brendon: Y’know how you told him that music wasn’t his thing, it was your thing? Watch this bro._

Hesitantly, Pete tapped the video link. It took a moment to load, but Pete’s eyes widened when he recognised the familiar Ellen studio. Even more so when he saw tiny little Patrick stump (wearing yellow overalls over a sky blue t-shirt, yellow boots and his familiar yellow hat) make his way to the guest seat, and giggle when he saw the crowds. The interview was about as cute as anyone expected.

_“How are you today, Patrick?”_

_“I’m good! How are you?”_

_“I’m pretty good.” She paused and smiled out at the crowd, before turning back to the child sitting opposite her. “How old are you now?”_

_Little Patrick didn’t hesitate, and beamed proudly. “Six.”_

_“Six! And you’re in high school, I hear?”_

_“Uh huh.” He giggled. “I’m a sopho, soph-o-more.” He struggled slightly with the world, but smiled once he got it out. “It’s super fun.”_

_“Sounds like it!” She beamed. “What do you like most about being in high school?”_

_“All the friends!” His excitement was definitely showing through his squirming in his chair, but that didn’t dare slow him down. “There’s so many other people! And everyone is so nice and they take care of me and sometimes my friend Travie will carry me to class on his shoulders ‘cause he says that I might get squished if I walk with everyone else in the halls. But it’s super fun!”_

_“And what about the learning? What’s your favourite class?”_

_“Music.” Patrick almost cut her off with how fast he responded. “Music is the bestest class.”_

 

_“Music? That’s pretty cool. Do you play instruments?”_

_“Lots of them! Drums and guitar and bass and saxophone and my Mom’s teaching me piano.”_

_“That’s awesome, Patrick. Why do you like music so much?”_

_He squirmed on the chair some more and giggled. “’Cause it makes people happy. One day I’m gonna do music all the time and make people happy all the time. That would be the best job in the world.”_

Pete had to turn the interview off after that. 

\------------

“Pete, can I talk to you when class is finished?”

Those words weren’t said with a smile, they were said with a frown. And Pete’s heart sank as he nodded to his music teacher, slumping back into his desk to work on his final assignment. Not that it really mattered any more, the big assignment was the one that finalised the rankings. What was left was time-fillers until graduation. Pete had promised himself at the start of the semester that he’d work hard, right to the final day, but Patrick’s empty desk beside him, all his motivation appeared to have disappeared.

When the bell rang, Pete slowly dragged a chair up to Professor Hoppus’s desk, and looked down at his hands. He was expecting a lecture, something along the lines of ‘I expected better of you’, everything that Pete agreed with. But instead, Professor Hoppus just poured Pete a glass of water, and leaned back on his chair.

“Have you spoken to him since the incident?”

“No.” Pete responded quietly, picking at his fingernail. “He, he won’t take my calls, or answer my texts, and he hasn’t been at school.”

Professor Hoppus sighed. “I guess I’m breaking the news then.”

“W-What news?”

“Patrick dropped out. And that makes you number one. Congratulations, Pete. You win your scholarship.” Despite his words being of good cheer, he spoke cold and emotionless.

“ _What?_ ” Pete couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “He _left_? The class or the school?”

“Just the class, for now. I got the call from the office this morning. Look, I’m not one to call judgement, but this decision obviously has something to do with you and the incident.”

“I, I did all that, and he just _dropped out_ of the class?”

“He never wanted the scholarship, Pete. He was trying to downplay himself on the assignment.” Professor Hoppus raised an eyebrow. “He left in purposeful errors. He ignored my feedback. But unfortunately, the head of music decided that those were purposeful in the meaning of the song and then graded it. I couldn’t overpower that.”

“Oh god…”

“Yeah.” Professor Hoppus poured him more water. “Look, I try not to give relationship advice to students, but Pete, if you ever want him back, then you’re gonna have to go and find him and talk things out. He obviously still wants this to work, he still wants you to succeed. So there’s an opportunity there to fix things. Take it before it goes, Pete.”

“I promise you, I will.” 

\-----------------

_Pete: I heard you dropped out of the music class_

_Pete: You didn’t have to do that sunshine, music is your thing and you totally deserved the scholarship._

_Pete: I’d give up 10 scholarships for the chance to talk to you again. I miss you. Please call me._

_Pete: I love you, sunshine. Please call me when you can. I’m so, so sorry._

Dale knocked on her son’s door, watching him furiously texting from the door frame. “C’mon, dinner’s ready.”

“Not hungry.” Pete didn’t even look up from his phone. “I need to fix this now before it’s too late.”

“Is this the Patrick thing?” Dale wandered over and sat down beside him. “Have you still not heard from him? It’s been 2 weeks.”

“He d-dropped out of the music class, Mom!” Pete looked up at his mother, eyes brimming with tears. “I was the worst person that could have existed and he still dropped out before graduation so I could have the stupid fucking scholarship! I n-need to get to him and I n-need to apologise and o-oh, god…”

She frowned. “Dropped out?”

“F-For the year, I checked a-at the office. H-He’s going back next year for s-sophomore year but he’s n-not coming back for the rest of the school year. I t-think that’s because of me.” 

“Oh.” Dale swallowed the lump in her throat. “Right. Do you know that was _his_ choice?”

Pete stopped for a moment. “What?”

“I just, I’m wondering, did he choose to drop out or was that a decision that someone else made for him? He was sick for so long, and he kept avoiding going home, and I, I’m just worried about him…”

Pete hadn’t considered that. He’d been too caught up in the relationship drama to think about the realities of what would happen if Patrick wasn’t coming to the Wentz household every afternoon. And now that he thought about it, his stomach started to churn.

“You need to visit him. In person.” Dale told him. “Clearly he’s not a phone call person. The only way you’re gonna fix this is if you get in your car and drive to his house and confront him in person.”

“T-that’s probably a good idea…”

“Then go.” She smiled encouragingly.

Pete raced for his keys and ran to the door, before pausing. Yeah, the whole ‘dramatic driving to Patrick’s house to apologise’ was great in theory, but then he realized that he didn’t actually know where Patrick lived. That was a bit of a complication.

“What’s wrong?” Dale asked.

“I… I don’t know where he lives.”

She blinked a few times. “ _What?_ ”

“I don’t know where he lives, Mom!”

“Of course you do!” She tried to tell him. “You’ve been dropping him home every night for months!”

“I’ve been dropping him back at school, Mom.” Pete admitted, hanging his head. “He, he wouldn’t tell me his address. Every time I picked him up or dropped him off, he demanded I meet him at the school. He told me h-he wasn’t allowed to, b-because it was some kind of government secret or something…”

“At the _school?_ ” She almost screamed. “Peter, he’s a _child_. You drop him home _late_ , too! That’s not safe!”

“I didn’t know what else to do, Mom! He wouldn’t tell me anything!”

“Look, the whole government secret thing is lies. If he’s going to school and has his freedom, then I honestly doubt he’s living in a safe house. The school will have his address. But that means you’re going to have to wait until tomorrow to get it.”

\---------------

“I need Patrick Stump’s home address please.”

The office lady ignored him at first, finishing typing her sentence on the computer keyboard, before looking up and giving him a dirty glare. “What were you after?”

“Patrick Stump? He’s, he’s a student here. I need his home address.” Pete stressed.

“That information isn’t available to students.” She retorted quickly.

“What? Please! He could be in danger!”

She sighed. “That information is not available to students. You kids all have cell phones these days. Call him and ask him for it.”

Pete just seethed in anger and stormed out of the office.

\----------

Professor Hoppus was relatively surprised to see Pete in his office, but welcomed him in and shut the door. “How did things go with Patrick?”

“Haven’t heard from him yet. He won’t respond to calls or text messages. I need his home address.” Pete made eye contact with his music teacher. “And I need a bit of help to get it.”

“You don’t know where he lives?!”

“Long story.” Pete sighed. “But I went to the office to get it, and they essentially told me that only staff has access to it. You know that I don’t have long to make things right. I need your help.”

“You want me to break the rules and get you classified information?” 

“Well, yeah.”

Professor Hoppus pondered the thought for a few minutes. “I’ll see what I can do.”

At the end of the day, when it was finally time for music, Professor Hoppus passed out some more task sheets with more busy work to do. Pete flicked through the task sheet mindlessly, before noticing a yellow sticky note on the 2nd last page.

Scrawled in Professor Hoppus’s handwriting, was an address.

He looked up at his teacher and smiled widely, mouthing a ‘thank you’ across the room. Professor Hoppus just smiled back and gave him a nod of confidence.

Pete had what he needed now. It was time to make things right.

If he could, that was.


	33. Pete finally experiences the agony of trying to apologize, and Dale finally decides that enough is enough

Pete didn’t know what to expect when he showed up at Patrick’s house.

The drive here had been a mix of confusion and anger. Patrick had promised him that his house was right by the school, and so that was where Pete dropped him. But this address was at least a 40 minute _drive_ from the school, and Pete found himself growing frustrated. Sure, he got that Patrick didn’t want people to know where he lived, but the fact that he was willing to walk for hours to get home each night to keep up his lies was ridiculous. He’d told Pete it was only a 5 minute walk. Liar.

But Pete didn’t have time to dwell on the details. He was the one in the wrong here, and marching in there and yelling at Patrick about lying wasn’t going to help their relationship in the slightest. 

The neighborhood itself, was, well, pretty average. It was neat and clean and tidy, but not overly extravagant. It wasn’t upper class nor lower class. It was just, plain, really. Pete wasn’t really sure what he was expecting, but when the GPS told him he’d arrived at his destination, the house he’d pulled up in front of was just, well, _average._

He spent a few minutes on the front porch, raising his hand to knock, then pulling away in hesitation. Would Patrick even want to see him? It was clear from the phone calls that he wasn’t Patrick’s favourite person right now. Not to mention the fact that he had managed to keep Pete away from his house for the entire time they’d been dating. Was there a reason for that? The memory of Patrick covered in bruises came to mind, and Pete swallowed his nerves. With a shaking hand, he knocked.

For the first few seconds, there was silence and Pete’s heart pounded in his chest. And then there was the sound of movement on the other side of the door, and Pete held his breath until the door opened.

Patrick answered, but Pete had to do a double take. The Patrick he knew wore _yellow_. This kid did not.

Dressed in a faded blue yale sweater, and a pair of black sweatpants with some navy ugg boots, Patrick glared up at Pete from beneath dishevelled hair and glasses with an obvious smudge on the lens. He looked a _mess._

“Hey… Sunshine…” Pete gulped nervously, looking over his boyfriend’s appearance.

“What the _hell_ are you doing here?” Patrick hissed, poking his head out of the door and checking to see if anyone was watching them. Once he had concluded they were alone, he turned his malice back to Pete. “You _can’t_ be here!”

“Look, I, I need to apologise, and I didn’t know how else to reach you…” Pete nervously rubbed the back of his head. “I’m sorry, Sunshine….”

Patrick huffed in frustration, and angrily pulled Pete inside by the arm, slamming the door behind them. Pete didn’t really get a good chance to look around Patrick’s house, mostly because all the lights were off and most of the furniture was covered in sheets, except for the kitchen table which had an empty cereal bowl on it. It was the only sign of life here, other than Patrick’s tight grip on his forearm, which was pulling him down the hallway and into a bedroom.

Patrick’s room was a direct juxtaposition to the rest of the house. It was white, clean, and sterile, and extremely tidy. Pete couldn’t spot a single speck of dust in the entire room. The soft grey carpet complimented the white walls, and the furnishings were a simple desk with a math textbook on it, a white bed with a plain yellow bedspread on it, a treadmill in the corner, and a closet with a yellow door. 

On the wall, there were 3 yellow photo frames. One photo of Patrick’s family, his mother, father, brother and him all together and smiling at the camera. One photo of Patrick and his mother with the president, and finally one photo of Pete and Patrick wearing matching suits in LA.

The room was cute, really. The window on the far wall had a planter box outside in which Patrick was growing sunflowers, and there was a yellow baby blanket sitting on the end of the bed. Pete chuckled softly and went to pick it up, when he felt a very firm hand on his wrist. “Don’t _touch_ anything.”

Pete remembered why he was here, and withdrew his hand. He couldn’t walk in and expect everything to be as it was. He was the bad guy. He needed to try and fix things first.

He went to sit down on the bed but Patrick gave him another deathly glare and yanked him away from it. With a snap of his fingers, and pointed at the desk chair. “You can sit _there._ ”

“Sorry…” Pete mumbled, sitting down where directed, careful not to touch anything else. Sure, he expected Patrick to be upset or angry, but this was something else.

Once Pete had sat, Patrick glared at him once again, before turning his treadmill on and starting to run. Fast, too. But he didn’t take his eyes off Pete, and even though it was _very_ offputting, Pete realized this was his only opportunity to speak.

“I miss you, Sunshine.” Pete murmured, diverting his gaze and looking down at the carpet. “I fucked up, and I’m so sorry that I can’t even put it in words, and I, I just…”

“Why would you miss me? It’s not like you liked having me around. I was just a pest, remember?” Patrick responded coldly, turning the speed up on his treadmill. “Showing up at your house when I was almost dying and had nowhere else to go, and I sprained your hand, and I stole your dreams, right?”

“Patrick…” Pete sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I, I’m just, I didn’t mean anything I said, alright?! I’m a fucking asshole, and I know it. I know I got firey-headed, I know I said things that you never wanted said to anyone, or even talked about behind closed doors. I _know_ what an asshole I am.”

“And you still expect me to run back into your arms, like none of that matters.” Patrick observed.

“No! I mean, well, I just-“

“Exactly.”

“I d-don’t expect things to be as they were, Sunshine, I just, I just miss _you._ Everyone does. You’ve become my _world_ , and you just took my world away, just like that, and now I’m just, I’m just a fucking mess, okay!? I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, every waking moment is just guilt over what I fucking did to you and I just, I needed to hear from you or something because I can’t go on like this!”

Patrick sped his treadmill up again. “So once again, it’s all about _you_ , Pete. It doesn’t matter that you took my friends from me, my ability to attend _any_ school in the area like normal, it’s _your_ world that got destroyed, right?”

“None of your friends have ditched you.” Pete huffed at him. “I know you think that everyone in this world is an asshole who’s gonna dismiss everything about you once they learn a tiny detail about how you were born, but not everyone in the world is a dickhead, Patrick. I know you’ve spent your little life surrounded by them, but I have 20,000 freshman a _day_ approaching me, worried about you and wondering where the hell you are. Brendon and the rest of the music class have been calling you non-stop, just like I have. The only real asshole in the school is me.”

The only noise that filled the room after that was the sound of Patrick’s slippers pounding away at the treadmill track. Pete looked up and frowned. “You wanna maybe climb off that? It’s a little weird.”

“It’s the only thing keeping me from ripping your head off right now.” Patrick grunted at him.

“O-Okay.” Pete quickly retreated from _that_ discussion. “Look, Sunshine, I’m _sorry_. I know words aren’t enough to fix what I did, and that’s understandable, and I know you’re probably never going to trust me with anything ever again, but I just want you back. I know you don’t want to be lovers, I know you don’t even want to see me right now, but all I need is a chance to make things right. And you’re the only one who can give that to me.”

Patrick didn’t say anything.

“If not for me, please just come see Mom. She’s beside herself, and I just, she thinks you’ve probably tried to kill yourself or some shit and it’s stressing everyone out. If you don’t want to give _me_ another chance, then please just give her one.”

“Why would she even think that?”

“Because that’s what I did to her, Patrick.” Pete murmured, looking down at his lap. “Before I went into inpatient. I went mental. I ran away a bunch. I stopped talking to people altogether. I stopped eating. And then there was this one big event where I was off my meds and I ran away to Arkansas and tried to overdose on aspirin. And M-Mom didn’t need that, Dad w-was away and she was trying to manage 3 kids and I, I just, I’m _never_ putting her through that again. So, just, it’s Mom you need to see.”

Pete breathed a sigh of relief when the treadmill slowed. Patrick sighed. “I didn’t want to hurt her. I’d _never_ want to hurt her. She’s been amazing.”

“I know.” Pete murmured. “It’s okay if you need more time to decide about me, but please just go see Mom. She’s so worried.”

Patrick nodded. “Look, I’ll go see her. But I need more time to think about us.”  
“That’s okay. I’m just glad to see you.” Pete forced a smile, in hope he’d get one back. He didn’t, but kept trying. “You didn’t have to drop out of the class, Sunshine. You _deserved_ it. Professor Hoppus said you even tried to play your assignment down for me…”

“Yeah, duh.” Patrick rolled his eyes. “The song had so many errors in it, but it was just marked by an idiot.”

“I thought it was pretty good.” Pete mumbled. “But thank you. For being a good person even when I was the worst.”

Patrick was about to respond, when the door flung open, and there stood Clarence. “Alright, c’mon, we gotta- what the fuck is Wentz doing here!? And why the hell are you running?! I told you _no!_ ”

“Pete, you need to go.” Patrick rushed, before turning his treadmill off. “Look, I couldn’t do it while he was here.”

“Well, you’re doing it now!” Clarence yelled, his breath reeking of alcohol.

“Pete, _go_.” Patrick instructed for a second time. “Okay, okay, I’m coming. Just let me get changed first.”

“No you’re coming _now._ ” Clarence stormed in and grabbed him by the shirt collar. “Let’s _go._ ”

“Pete, just go.” Patrick pleaded, not forcing against his captor. “I’ll call you tonight. It’s okay, tell your Mom I’m alright.”

And even though Pete knew this wasn’t okay in the slightest, he just gulped, nodded uncertainly, and ran to his car.

\----------

“And you just LEFT HIM THERE!?” Dale shrieked.

Pete groaned and tossed his head into his hands. “He, he just told me to go, and I just, he was so _angry_ at me, Mom! I didn’t want to make it worse!”

“So you left him with a drunk that literally had him by the collar. Jesus Christ, Pete!” Dale paced back and forth. “And that was what, 3 hours ago?!”

“I’m not very smart, okay!?” Pete defended, rising to his feet. “I didn’t want to leave him!”

“Then why did you?!”

“Because I was _scared_ , Mom! I’m just a fucking wimp, okay? I was scared of him getting angrier, scared of Clarence and scared of whatever the fuck would happen to me if I stayed! You weren’t home yet, my phone was in the car, and I just-“

Dale stormed to the kitchen and picked her work bag back up from where she had put it down only a few minutes earlier. “Come on.”

“What?” Pete asked in confusion.

“We’re going to get him.” She told him firmly. “ _Now._ ”

“You’re not even gonna get out of your work clothes?”

“ _NOW_ , Pete!”

And that was how Pete ended up in the passenger seat as his mother drove them both back to Patrick’s house in the darkness. They didn’t talk until Dale parked the car down the street, and Pete walked her to the front door. 

“Pete, put your phone on record.”

“What?”

“Do it, Pete.”

Reluctantly, he did, and tucked it back into his pocket. “You know what you’re doing, right?”

“I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.” She responded with a smile. “Let’s do it.”

“Wait, what?” Pete’s eyes widened, but Dale had already pushed the door open and was inside. Pete had to chase after her.

The house was empty. Nothing in any bedrooms, in fact most of them were empty with just white sheets covering the furniture. It wasn’t until they got to the staircase down to the basement that they noticed some light, and Dale stormed down there, work bag in hand while Pete hesitantly followed.

“WHAT IN THE WORLD IS GOING ON?!”

Pete hadn’t seen anything like this since they were in LA. And even in LA, it was nothing like this. The room was huge, with some kind of bench in the middle that Patrick was lying on. There were at least 20 other people in the room as well, some touching test tubes, some on computers, some watching monitors and others writing things down on clipboards, except for one lady stroking Patrick’s hair. And _all_ of them stopped and stared at the crazy lady still in her scrubs from her day shift at the hospital, and her awkward teenage son who was praying the floor was swallow him whole.

“And who might you be?” One of the doctors passed his clipboard over and approached her. 

Dale ignored him and ran to the table where Patrick was lying, and because Pete was too terrified to be left alone, he chased her. Patrick was staring straight up at the ceiling, his face blank and his breathing heavy and forced. When Dale reached out to help him sit up however, he flinched away and cried out in pain.

“Ricky, Ricky, sweetheart, it’s just me. It’s Dale, and Pete, and we’re here now, okay?” She assured him. “We’re here to get you, okay? It’s gonna be okay now, we’re here.”

“Mom?” Pete asked hesitantly, pointing to the IV in his boyfriend’s arm.

“What the _hell_ is that?!” She turned to the doctors, folding her arms to assert her dominance over the situation.

“I believe you didn’t answer my question from before.” He frowned. “Do you have clearance?”

“No, I don’t have your goddamn _clearance._ ” She spat. “I don’t know what the hell is going on down here, but if you want to know who I am, I’m Pete’s mother. AKA, the woman who’s been taking care of this child when he’s been avoiding whatever the hell this place is. And I want to know, right now, what the hell is in this drip?!”

“That’s classified infor-“

She tore it straight out of his arm, throwing it to the ground in frustration. Patrick flinched away from her again, and she stood up tall. “Okay, what the _hell_ is going on here!?”

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“No, I’m not leaving!” She retaliated. “This is goddamn child abuse! What on earth are you pumping into him!? How long has this been going on?!” She did pause a moment. “And I know all the backstory, so just cut to the chase, assholes.”

A bunch of them exchanged looks. Pete just sat down on the bench next to Patrick, and tried to stay calm himself. Patrick didn’t seem to take notice of anything that was going on, and just stared at the haze of the lights on the ceiling as the drama unfolded around him.

“Just tell her.” Clarence grunted from the corner.

The doctor frowned. “We’re trialing a new suppressant.”

“Suppressant?!” Pete was the one to speak this time, much to Dale, and everyone else’s, surprise. “He’s been suppressed like all hell since he got back from LA! This is only gonna make him worse!”

Patrick groaned and tried to cover his ears.

“We just needed to test how the medicine and the effects of the deprivation worked together.” He explained. “We’ve nearly collected all the data we need, and then we’ll restore him.”

“Restore?” The word echoed in Pete’s mind, before he leapt up in pure fury. “YOU’VE HAD A FUCKING CURE FOR WHATEVER THE HELL YOU’RE PUTTING HIM THROUGH THIS ENTIRE TIME AND YOU’VE REFUSED TO GIVE IT TO HIM, HAVEN’T YOU?!”

“And if this wasn’t child abuse before, it certainly is now!” Dale added.

Clarence rolled his eyes. “Sweetheart, you can’t charge child abuse towards a thing that isn’t even human.”

“Of course he’s human!” Pete yelled, trying to hold back from strangling the guy.

“A genetically modified carrot is still a carrot.” Dale told him, folding her arms. “Same goes for humans. And I can tell you now, that boy is as much a human as any one of you! What if it were your children on that table right now?! Because that’s essentially what you’re doing to him! Sure, he’s smart. But more than anything, he is a _child_ , and this is _abusive_ and _inhumane_ , and you’re going to get that restorative medication right now.” 

“And why on earth would be want to do that, Mrs Wentz?”

“Because Pete’s been recording this entire conversation.” She smiled smugly. “And I’m pretty sure that if this information ever made it’s way to a jury, I’m pretty sure that withholding medical treatment, allowing him to be in pain, and purposefully making his condition worse for the sake of _data_ will be viewed as child abuse.”

The doctor who was stroking Patrick’s hair when they walked in handed Dale a small briefcase. “These. 5 needles. One a day for 5 days. It might take up to a month for him to fully recover, but these are the medications. He can’t take them now, not after the IV, but he should be good to go at about 5pm tomorrow.”

“DR COOPER!”

“If she takes this public, we’re screwed.” Was all she defended with, not bothering to explain anything else. 

Patrick flinched and grunted and didn’t like it when Pete picked him up, but settled down in his arms as they headed upstairs. Dale was still on her adrenaline rush, and powered through Patrick’s closet, throwing all the various items of yellow clothing into a duffle bag while Pete grabbed the photo frames from the walls. Patrick just clutched the blanket on the end of the bed to his chest.

They were about to leave when the doctor who gave Dale the needles entered with a very thick binder. “Here. You’re gonna need this.”

“We don’t need anything else.” Dale responded coldly. “He’s had more than enough torture from this place.”

“It’s not to hurt him.” She pleaded. “It’s… essentially the Patrick manual. Everything’s in here. There’s a lot he’s going through right now, and if you’re gonna be giving him the needles and nursing him back to health, you’re gonna need this.” There was a moment of silence. “Thank you, for sticking up to them. I’ve been trying for years, but I keep getting pushed back. Take him. Get him out of here.”

Dale hesitantly took the binder and shoved it in the bag. “Can you make sure we get out alright? They won’t call the cops or anything?”

“This isn’t cops. This is national security level.” She admitted. “But I’ll do my best to keep them off your trail.”

Pete carried Patrick to the car, quietly soothing him whenever he’d cry out, and buckled him into the back seat while Dale put his meager belongings in the trunk. Pete didn’t know whether Patrick had decided yet about the whole second hand thing, but the fact that he snuggled right up to him and slept on his shoulder for the entire drive home appeared to be a pretty good sign.


	34. Pete and Dale take care of Patrick, and Patrick Really Doesn't Like Needles

When Pete woke up the next day, everything just seemed normal. It was just another Saturday, just another day where Pete rolled out of bed and pulled on a t-shirt before wandering out to the kitchen to make himself some coffee. 

And then he got there and found Patrick sitting at the kitchen table doing a jigsaw puzzle, and Dale reading through the very thick binder that she’d been handed the night before, and everything was no longer as simple as it was when he woke up.

Despite the fact that everything was so complicated, and Pete never imagined himself to be in this situation, Patrick was here now. And that meant he was safe. And Pete wouldn’t trade that for the world.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Dale smiled, looking up from the page she was reading. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah.” Pete murmured uncertainly, pouring himself some coffee and slumping into a chair beside her. “How’d you sleep, Sunshine?”

Dale gently rubbed Patrick’s shoulder affectionately. “Someone had a bit of a freak out when they woke up and didn’t really understand where they were. But he’s okay now.”

“What?”

“I’m not sure what exactly they gave him last night, but it’s really drained him. He’s okay, I calmed him down and all, but I’m not exactly sure how long this is going to last.”

Patrick just sat there, not paying attention to anything they were saying about him, just placing the pieces of his puzzle together until he finished. Then he finally looked up and gave Dale that goofy smile, and she just chuckled before handing him another puzzle box. Then he just eagerly opened it up and got started on the next one.

“Turns out this folder has a lot of useful information in it.” Dale explained nervously. “Like the fact that puzzles keep him calm.”

“Right…”

Dale sighed and flipped through the pages. “This child has undergone more torture than a soviet prisoner. He’s not going home anytime soon, Pete.” 

“What kind of stuff?” Pete asked nervously.

“Medications, deprivations, shock therapy, um… just some of the stuff in here is disgusting.” She looked at Patrick sadly, before flicking to a page and running her finger down it. “When he was 10 they tried to do a bunch of deprivation studies, and they’d lock him up for so long that he started displaying self-destructive behaviours. He’d bang his head against the walls and bite his arms and then they’d just start to restrain him and… jesus.”

“Fucking hell.” Pete murmured.

“Language.” Dale corrected. “But look, at the moment he doesn’t have any clue of where he is and what is going on. We’re just gonna take today slow, and get started on whatever this medication is tonight. Then we’ll figure out what to do.”

“Alright.” Pete nodded, still slightly confused. “I’m gonna go shower.”

\---------

Despite the fact that Patrick was still incredibly confused about where he was and what was going on, and that fuzz in the back of his head made everything slow down and made it impossible to put words to what he wanted to tell people, he figured out that wherever he was was okay and these people he was with were okay.

He vaguely knew that he knew them, from somewhere, but that was alright. The lady had given him several jigsaw puzzles to do, and once he’d done them, she let him flip the pancakes. The boy, who was very pretty, Patrick had to admit, was very nice too, and told him that the pancakes looked amazing, and gently pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Patrick liked that.

When Pete returned from his shower, pancakes were ready and the table was all set nicely, and Dale beckoned the family to the kitchen for a pile of steaming pancakes, freshly flipped. He sat next to his heavily-drugged boyfriend and put an arm around him, and smiled when Patrick leaned into it.

It had been 3 weeks since Pete had felt this last, and now he had his Sunshine back, he never wanted him to leave again.

“Feeling any better?” He asked.

Patrick didn’t respond, but Pete didn’t let it bother him. The lady last night had said 5pm or something. So they just had to make it through the day, and then Patrick would be back as the kid that Pete knew and loved.

The pancakes were pretty good, and everything was going smoothly until Hillary offered Patrick a glass of juice. To that he smiled and nodded, and after Hillary poured it, he reached out to grab it.

Pete knew that Patrick did have remarkable strength, but when he grabbed the glass a little too firmly and the glass shattered and the juice spilled everywhere, it was on another level. In a panic, Andrew grabbed a napkin to control the flooding that was quickly covering the breakfast table, but nobody was more alarmed than Patrick, who screamed in terror and ran out of the room.

And so Pete chased him.

He found Patrick hiding in the bathroom, his legs tucked up to his chin and teary-eyed. He wasn’t crying, but there was no doubt that he had been. Pete just sat down beside him and gently put an arm around him. “Hey, Sunshine…”

Patrick rested his head on Pete’s shoulder, snuggling right up to his warmth. He was so warm and cozy, like a big hot water bottle with a very pretty face. And when Patrick was snuggled up to him, then the noise that the glass made as it shattered wasn’t scaring him anymore, and everything was good again.

Pete just pecked a kiss to the top of his head.

\-----------

They took the day slow, mostly just sitting around and watching movies, or listening to music while Patrick did more jigsaw puzzles. And when he’d done all the puzzles in the game cabinet, Dale would break them up and he’d do them again and again.

He still didn’t say anything, not even when 5pm rolled around and the lady back at Patrick’s house had told them that he’d be fine. Pete had to agree with Dale on waiting until morning before giving him the needle. Or, at least until he was a little more himself.

Patrick didn’t seem to mind, nor did he seem to understand the entire concept of the needles in the first place. He just did his puzzles and drunk pineapple juice out of a metal flask that Dale had dug out from the bottom of the kitchen cupboard.

Dale tucked him in to bed at 6 when he started yawning, before sitting back down with the Patrick manual for more reading time. Pete ended up sitting down beside her, and reading some of the pages as well.

Every page documented another horrifying experiment, another terrible procedure that they’d put him through. Pete read about his deprivation studies, the way his brain fired up when presented with another math problem, and probably the most disturbing chapter, the deprivation study they’d started the day after his mother died to document how his brain chemistry worked when he was dealing with grief.

And then Pete reached the chapter on love.

A lot of the chapter was based on Patrick’s relationship with his Mom, and the way that she always had a certain way of calming him down, and as a child, his panic attacks when he was torn away from her for more procedures. It talked about how when he was in her presence, his brain activity settled back to normal levels, and he was able to focus and learn and live.

_“And these effects experienced with Patricia Stump can be directly compared to the experiences of affection with Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III.”_

There it was. His name. Printed in black and white in the book about how Patrick’s brain worked. And it once again, just like it did for Patrick’s Mom, explained how in Pete’s presence, Patrick was settled. His brain stopped buzzing with this insatiable desire to burn off energy, and he was able to breathe, and relax, and _live_. 

“You’re helping him in ways you don’t understand, Pete.” Dale breathed, gently kissing her son’s cheek.

“He’s doing the same for me, Mom, I just don’t have a team of weird scientists documenting it.”

She laughed at that, and rubbed his shoulder affectionately. “I don’t usually believe in soulmates, but if there were ever 2 people built for each other, it would be you and Patrick.”

Pete smiled. “Yeah, I guess so.”

\-----------------

It took about a week for the effects of whatever was in that drip to wear off enough so Patrick was talking again. Dale still made Pete go to school, but Patrick didn’t really mind. Dale stayed home and would do puzzles with him and make him food and they’d watch movies together and everything was super fun.

Until Pete and Dale sat him down after dinner and explained that they had some medicine for him, and it was essentially a cure for what had been plaguing him since LA.

And all that sounded great in theory, and Patrick agreed that it would be amazing to get rid of this fuzziness in the back of his head. But then Dale explained that it was a set of needles, and then he really, really didn’t want to be a part of it.

“Ricky, honey, it’s gonna make you better.” Dale told him, confusion written all over her face.

“I-It’s a needle and, and then it’s a d-doctor and a h-hospital.” Patrick shook his head. “N-No.”

“No, none of that. Just a needle, sweetheart. We’ll do it at home, no doctors, no hospitals.”

Patrick shook his head again. “No.”

Dale sighed and nodded. “Okay, not tonight. We’ll see how you feel tomorrow, okay?”

Patrick just folded his arms around himself protectively, and shook his head again.

\---------

They asked him every night for a week, if he was ready to start the course of medications. Every night was the same as the first, with the shaking of the head, the utter refusal, and the self-defensive positions.

Normally, Dale was accepting of his choices and told him that they’d see how he was feeling tomorrow. But today, she didn’t. Today, she told him that he didn’t have a choice, and he needed to get better, and they were going to start this thing. Tonight.

Which made sense, considering he’d spent the day in Pete’s bed, clutching his head and groaning in pain.

“Look, Ricky, sweetheart, I know you’re a bit scared, but the fact is, you’re really not doing very well, and I’m really _worried_ about you. It’s just a little pinch, and then it’s all over, and you’re gonna feel a lot better, okay?” Dale tried to explain as he frantically shook his head, before pausing because it made him dizzy.

She opened the case of medicines on the other side of the counter. “Pete, sweetheart, hold him down.”

Patrick shook his head again, and tried to pull away from Pete when he grabbed him, but he didn’t have his usual strength today to fight back. “N-No, I don’t, I don’t want i-it!”

“Sunshine, please.” Pete struggled to hold him still. “We’re trying to help you!”

He shook his head again. “L-LET ME GO!” 

“Pete, just, distract him.” Dale sighed while putting on some gloves and pulling Patrick’s sleeve up.

“Sunshine, I know you like, didn’t really get a chance to think about whether you were gonna forgive me or not before we like, kidnapped you from a federal lab of like, weird experiments, but you know I’ve missed you, and I just kinda…” Pete quickly moved his hand from Patrick’s arm to his cheek, and guided his lips to his own.

When he finally pulled away, Patrick had this dazed smile on his face, eyes wide in what Pete could only describe as awe. Dale chuckled softly and pressed a band-aid to where she’d quickly done the needle, and pulled his sleeve back down. “Alright. All done.”

Pete couldn’t stop smiling either.

\--------------

Patrick slept mostly for the week he was going through the treatment. He spent the week lying on Pete’s lap, or his shoulder, or in his bed, and only really getting up for meals or for another kiss injection.

When it was over, he wasn’t totally better, but he was better enough to comprehend the situation, and the fuzz in the back of his head was gone. And it got to the point, where he had to nervously tap Pete on his shoulder and look down in shame.

“What’s up Sunshine?”

“I, uh, I… I was just, uh…” He stammered awkwardly. “Do you, uh, by any chance have a treadmill?”

“Well, I mean, Dad bought one for Mom like, years ago. I’m not sure if it still works, but it’s down in the basement. Are you okay?”

Patrick clenched his fists together a couple of times. “C-Can we try?”

They headed down into the basement, hands intertwined, and Pete eventually dug the thing out from a pile of fitness equipment that never ended up being used. It was absolutely covered in dust, and it wasn’t exactly top model, but it turned on, and it started moving.

“It’s nothing flash, but-“

“It’s perfect.” Patrick cut him off and forced an uneasy smile. “Thanks…”

“Hey, that’s alright. Lemme know if you need anything else.” Pete smiled back, before realization hit. “Does this mean you’re better?”

Patrick sighed and hung his head, looking down at his yellow shoes. “Yeah. I guess so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you thought I'd forgotten about this one, huh?
> 
> No, just had to rewrite this chapter about 8 different times because it wasn't exactly how I wanted it set out in my head. Thanks for being patient with me <3


	35. Patrick is Afraid He Might Have To Go Home, And Dale's Strong Will is a Savior Grace

Patrick came to the realise that he’d have to go home sooner or later.

Not that he didn’t love everything that the Wentz family had done for him. Both Dale and Pete Senior had promised him a space in their home forever, and Pete and Dale had nursed him back to health after the whole ‘discovering Clarence’s lab’ experience. The amount of support and love he had received was overwhelming, and as much as Patrick wanted to hold onto it for as long as he could, there was danger lurking and he couldn’t let them get ahold of the people he loved most.

As much as what Dale and Pete had done was very sweet, they also had put themselves in an incredible amount of danger by doing so. What they saw as taking a child out of an abusive situation was… stealing an incredibly valuable object from the United States military. And Patrick knew from experience that that was going to give them a 15 year jail sentence the moment they were caught.

So he was going to have to go home and plead the case that it was all his fault. It was unlikely that he’d ever be able to see Pete again after this, nor Dale for that matter, but it wasn’t really a choice. He was the one who’d gotten them all into this mess, and so it was his responsibility to get them out.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard. He felt undeniably guilty when he got to snuggle in bed with Pete and watch movies on his laptop, or when they bought him a yellow bedspread for the spare room to officially make it ‘his room’, but didn’t say anything for about 2 weeks. _Just one more day of this. Okay, maybe one more day. They’d probably be safe for another week…. Maybe two…._

It was 3 weeks after his recovery that he finally built up the courage. They were all sitting around at the dinner table, and the conversation had quiet. Patrick nervously cleared his throat before looking down at his place. “I, um… I’m going home tomorrow.”

“What?” Pete was the first to speak, grabbing Patrick’s hand. “No, Sunshine, you’re not.”

Patrick sighed. “I shouldn’t’ve stayed this long in the first place. I have to go home.”

“Ricky, sweetheart, you’re not going home.” Dale told him. “Not after what I saw. You’re staying with us now.”

Patrick groaned. “What you saw was a very rare occurrence because I was sick.”

“It shouldn’t have been an occurrence at _all_.” She rebutted quickly. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“You don’t understand.” Patrick adjusted his hat, before sighing. “I just- I _have_ to go home.”

Pete stared him down for a moment. “So, let me get this straight. We rescued you from some asshole who was shoving needles into you, and god knows what else, and let you have a place in a loving family, and you want to go back?”

Patrick groaned again and rubbed his eyes in frustration. “It’s, I don’t want to go back, Pete, I have to.”

“You don’t have to do anything.” Dale told him, frowning slightly. “Is there something going on that we don’t know about?”

“Well, I…” Patrick winced. “Yes…”

“And what would that be?”

He could feel both pairs of eyes boring into him as he gulped nervously and looked down at his lap, refusing to respond to the question.

“Seriously?!” Pete threw his hands in the air. “Sunshine, this isn’t a little deal, and you know that. This is your life, and I get that you’re like, super private or whatever, but this isn’t something you can keep to yourself! We can help you!”

“No.” Patrick said quietly. “You can’t. This isn’t something you can fix. It’ll only hurt you more if you try to get involved.”

“Ricky, darling, this is important. I know you’re scared, but I promise you, we can help.” Dale reached over and took his hand. “I have a lot of lawyer friends, doctor friends through work, you really don’t need to worry. We’ve got your back.”

Patrick pulled away and shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets. “I’m going home. Tonight.”

“Sunshine, c’mon, _trust_ us.”

“I do trust you.” He mumbled. “I just don’t trust Clarence or Ryan or anyone else.”

“Explain what you mean, honey.” Dale coaxed.

Patrick sniffled slightly, but did his best to keep his composure. “Y-You’ve put yourself in a bad spot, and y-you’re gonna be in a lot of trouble when they catch you, and I, I, oh, god…”

“You’re worried about us getting in trouble?” Pete almost scoffed. “Sunshine, we’re more concerned about keeping you safe than we are about getting a stern talking to from Clarence or Ryan. You’re fine.”

Patrick took a deep breath. “Both of you will be in jail for 15 years the moment you’re caught. This is a national security secret. I’m talking 15 years without a public trial. This isn’t… this isn’t something you can adjust. This is a very real threat and I, I just, I can’t let that happen to you…”

The table fell silence, and Patrick sighed. “I’ll…. I’ll go home and get everything sorted and then you won’t have to worry. We’ll all be safe, a-and yeah. It’s the only way.”  
“Kidnapping isn’t a 15 year jail sentence, is it?” Pete sounded uncertain, and quite nervous.

“It’s not kidnapping. It’s _theft_.” Patrick wiped his eyes furiously, begging himself not to cry. “I’m… I’m not a _person_ , I can’t be kidnapped. I-I’m a possession, and a-an expensive one, a-and you’re g-gonna end up in jail for b-burglary and I just- I c-can’t let that happen to you guys…”

He didn’t refrain from burying his face into Pete’s shoulder when Pete put an arm around his boyfriend to comfort him. “Shhhh. It’s alright Sunshine, we’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”

“I just, I g-gotta go home and sort t-things out…”

Dale sighed and put her cutlery down. “I’ll drive you home tonight, darling. I’ll let you sort this mess out, but I’m going to look into this whole ‘not being a person’ thing, because that’s not fair.”

“It c-costs a lot of money to like, k-keep me alive and pay for all like, t-tests and stuff.” Patrick mumbled, hanging his head in shame. “So, I’m, I’m worth a lot of money to them, and they’re not gonna take it lightly that you took me.”

“Sunshine, they know who we are already.” Pete explained. “My name is in that goddamn folder. They know we took you. If you’re so valuable or whatever, why haven’t they come and gotten us yet?”

Patrick immediately paled. “Y-You’re in the f-folder?”

“Yeah, like after the stuff in LA, there’s like a while write up in there.”

_Oh god. Oh god. Oh god._

“Sunshine?” Pete questioned, noticing the look of horror on his boyfriend’s face.

“Change your name!” Patrick blurted out suddenly. “You’ve got to. They c-can’t know you, I told y-you not to get involved and now…. Oh _god_ Pete!”

Pete grabbed Patrick’s shoulder and stopped him when he tried to get up. “Sunshine, please, just chill. We’ll sort this out. Mom knows what to do, right Mom? We don’t have to like, change our names or whatever, right?”

“No, no, we’re not changing any names.” Dale assured the table. “Ricky, sweetie, we’re gonna go in tomorrow and sort this out. You’re not going home after dark. And we’re not going to that house. We’re gonna take this to social services, and then hopefully we’ll have something.”

Patrick paled and shook his head. “They, you c-can’t fight this fight, Dale. They’ll win. I’m okay, I just n-need to sort this out and then-“

She cut him off. “ _Patrick_. Sweetheart. Stop it. Stop arguing. What’s happening right now is not okay in the slightest, and I know you think that it’s okay, but it’s really not. So we’re going to fix that. I don’t care if we hire lawyers, I don’t care who we’re taking on, but what matters here is that this is inhumane and it’s not going to continue. You’re not going home. Hear me?”

Patrick sighed and nodded slowly. “Okay. Okay. B-But if they come for y-you then I…”

“They’re not going to come for us.”

“B-But-“

“They’re not going to come for us. So you need to relax a little, stop stressing about us ending up in jail or whatever, and we’ll sort this out at social services tomorrow.” She paused. “I know you don’t like that you’re a little bit famous, but the facts are, if we end up having to take it to court, then it’s going to be very high profile, and I have a bit of a feeling that Clarence and Ryan and whatnot are not going to be very pleased with that. So we’ll take it to child services, make a list of demands that includes your, um, freedom, I suppose, and then threaten them with legal action. They’ll have to take it. Okay?”

There were a few moments of silence as everyone thought through the plan, and eventually Patrick slumped back into his chair. “Okay.”

\---------------

Pete was worried.

Sure, there was the stress of his final exams at school, and the stress of upcoming graduation, and stress about college applications and all, but he was mostly just worried about Patrick. Because for the first time since they’d met, it finally seemed that Patrick had stripped all his defence mechanisms and aversion tactics, and Pete was finally seeing his boyfriend for who he really was.

And that person was a ball of nerves almost folding in on itself in anxiety. Pete still saw his smile sometimes, like when they were snuggled up together in bed or when they were making music together to pass the time, but most of the time Patrick seemed incredibly stressed over the whole legal situation that Dale was putting together.

It was actually quite astounding how far they’d come. He’d met with the head of social services in Chicago to explain the case, his mother had found a lawyer willing to take the case on who had experience fighting against the United States Defence Force, and they had almost finished putting a letter together to send to the head of Patrick’s case.

Apparently that guy’s name was Frank. Pete had asked Patrick about that guy once, and Patrick had gone white and quickly changed the subject. He didn’t ask about it again.

And yet Patrick wasn’t happy. He put on a smile for Dale and Hillary and Andrew and tried to convince them he was okay, but when he was with Pete he was real. And even though all Pete had wanted for the longest time was for Patrick to be real with him, actually seeing it was soul-crushing.

Nobody else noticed Patrick looking over his shoulders when walking about the Wentz home. Nobody else noticed Patrick keeping all his things in his suitcase rather than unpacking them. Nobody else noticed how uneasy he was when Dale tried to ask him about what he was planning to do in the ‘long-term’. But Pete did.

And Pete was the only one who was woken up in the middle of the night to Patrick crying beside him.

“Sunshine?” He asked, blinking away the sleepiness and pawing for his lamp switch. “Sunshine, what’s wrong?”

Patrick rolled over, blinking away tears as they refused to stop coming, pretending that he hadn’t just woken Pete up like he’d sworn not to.

“Sunshine, buddy…” Pete wrapped an arm around his boyfriend and pulled him close. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I, I-I’m sorry I w-woke you up…”

“No, no, I don’t care about that.” Pete quickly assured. “What’s wrong?”

“I, I just…” Patrick furiously wiped his eyes. “I d-don’t belong here.”

“What?” Pete’s confusion was obvious. “Of course you do, Sunshine.”

He shook his head. “Y-You do and y-you get a family a-and, a-and you get t-to go to normal s-school and you get a-all of that but I n-need to be b-back in LA w-with R-Ryan and i-it’s stupid to w-want this b-because it’s f-for you and n-not me and I d-don’t belong here!”

Pete sighed softly. “Sunshine, you’re as deserving of a normal life as anyone else. You’re as human as anyone else. You don’t deserve anything less. That’s why Mom’s sorting it out, yeah?”

“I j-just take e-everything from e-everyone else.” Patrick sniffled. “I t-tried to be n-normal and then I t-took everything from y-you. It w-wasn’t fair because it w-was always meant to be for you, but I w-walked in and stole it and it’s n-not fair.”

“C’mon Sunshine, that was dodgy marking and you know it.” Pete gently stroked his hair. “And you know what? Even when I ruined everything for you, you were still amazing enough to drop out so I could have it. You didn’t need to do that. That was amazing. You didn’t take anything from me. Hell, you worked as hard, if not harder than me for it. You deserved it more.”

Patrick shook his head tearfully, and Pete sighed softly. “I love you, Sunshine. And so does Mom, and so do my siblings, and so do all your friends. And they all know that you’re as deserving of a life as everyone else. We’re gonna keep fighting till you get it. We love you. Never forget that.”

Patrick snuggled right up against Pete, and Pete gently pressed a kiss to his forehead while Patrick wiped his tears away. “Everyone loves you, Sunshine, and we’re not gonna stop until we get what’s right.”


	36. Patrick refuses to acknowledge the toll that this is taking on him, and Pete tries to get his boyfriend to open up to him in more unconvential methods.

Patrick was fine, he really was.

As long as you asked _him_ , he was fine. He was coping with the situation, the letters back and forth between Ryan and Dale and Social Services and Frank and the lawyer. There was nothing to worry about, because he had it all under control.

If you asked literally _anybody_ else, or even just looked from an outside perspective, it was very clear that the truth was quite the opposite. 

There was no resting from this nightmare situation that Patrick had somehow landed himself in. Every day there was something else, a recovered document, another letter. Everything was just coming so fast, and with most of the negotiations going back and forth so quickly, Patrick didn’t even know what they were fighting for at the moment.

Even for the smartest person in the world, it all got a bit too much sometimes. For Patrick, it was as if all the realities of the last year and a half came crashing down at once. Every time he sat down with Dale at the kitchen table, she put more pieces of paper in front of him, and presented more things that had been legally taken away from him when his mother died.

Oh, Patrick’s Mom.

It wasn’t that Patrick had been actively trying to deny she was gone for the last 14 months, but he really hadn’t exactly had time to process it. Not even 24 hours after hearing the news, they shoved him into another deprivation study. After that, he’d been shoved into college exams, and then his architecture scholarship was accepted, so he was sent to a new home with Clarence as a ‘guardian’ to study online. And as expected, Clarence was the worst guardian known to mankind, and in a desperate attempt to find _anybody_ willing to treat him with even an ounce of kindness, he re-enrolled into freshman year. 

And so, sitting at this table, with the lawyer and Dale going back and forth between death certificates and citizenship and negotiation letters became incredibly overwhelming. Every single person he talked to wanted to know _everything_. They were flicking through his binder, actually there were several copies of it now, and questioning. Pushing further and further into things that he refused to admit to _himself_ , let alone share with anybody else.

The days were very long, and the little time he did get to sleep was plagued with nightmares from repressed memories. On multiple occasions he woke to Pete aggressively shaking him awake, and pulling him into a hug to calm him down.

It was a lot to deal with. Not just for Patrick, but anybody. Sitting there and being told that the government had taken away your citizenship after your mother died because you didn’t have immediate family to protect you anymore wasn’t exactly easy. And then it became worse when he learned that the department responsible for looking after him had confiscated his trust fund because of that.

But at least he understood it. When all the letters were passed around, and legal jargon was the language used, Patrick could keep up. Pete, on the other hand, had absolutely no fucking clue what anybody was talking about at all. He just tried to do his best, to hold Patrick’s hand, and cuddle him when he looked sadder than normal. And that was becoming more common the longer these letters were being passed back and forth.

“Hey, uh, what’s a trust fund?” Pete asked, running his hand over the back of Patrick’s palm while Patrick looked down at his lap to avoid eye contact with the table.

“All my money.” Patrick mumbled, watching his foot spin in circles. “All my money that I’ve ever earned.”

“Right…” Pete considered that. “So, uh, what’s happening?”

“They took it.” Patrick sighed and slumped back in his chair. “All of it. Told a judge that they needed it to fund my living arrangements, and spent it. All of it.”

“Oh.”

He wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve. “So we were, the case was gonna file for emancipation, right? So I could live on my own without a guardian. But to do that, you have to prove that you have financial stability, and that means that I don’t have that anymore because they stole _all my money_. No, all my _Mom’s_ money.”

“This could be good, Patrick.” The lawyer tried to smile. “It’s another case of illegal activity that we can include in our case. Which means, if we win our case, then you’ll get all of it back. Plus more.”

“That’s _if._ ” Patrick muttered, before quickly standing up and turning to his boyfriend. “Can you, can you take me home now?”

Dale exhaled slowly. “Honey, you’re not going back there.”

Pete had never seen Patrick give his mother such an icy glare. “I need my _treadmill._ ”

“There's one in your-“ Pete started, before he was cut off.

“Not _that_ one.” Patrick huffled, shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets. “It’s not fast enough.”

“You said it was-“

“That was before all of _this!_ ” Patrick angrily gestured at the pile of papers covering Pete’s dining room table, before his shoulders slumped and he sighed. “I’m, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you’re trying and I’m trying but, b-but I _can’t._ ”

Pete glanced at his Mom, and when Dale gave a nod of approval, Pete reached over and squeezed Patrick’s hand. “It’s fine, Sunshine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll come with you. We can probably fit your treadmill in the back of my car when we’re finished and you can bring it back. How about that?”

Patrick _had_ been referring to the giant one sitting in his basement, which would probably need to be unbolted from the floor before it could be transported, but the genuine concern and kindness in Pete’s words made him smile. “T-Thank you…”

“It’s all good, Sunshine. C’mon, let’s go get it.”

\--------------

“I don’t think I can fit this one in my car…” Pete stammered, looking over the basement treadmill with a mix of wonder and terror.

Patrick chuckled. “Yeah, that’s alright. It’s bolted to the floor. I didn’t expect you to.”

The house had been empty when they arrived, proving to be a huge relief for Pete, who had been praying to avoid conflict with any of its former residents. However, it did mean they had free run of the entire place, which meant that Patrick was hell-bent on trying to start this thing back up.

“I mean, the key is in there, I don’t get why it’s not working…”

“How do you not know how to start this thing?”

“Clarence did it.” He muttered, studying the control panel. “I’d start on the track, while he’d measure my vitals and control the speed and stuff.”

“R-Right.” Pete stammered, wandering over to the panel. “Maybe let me try?”

“It must need a second key, or something…”

“Or maybe, you should push the _start_ button.”

“That could probably work as well.” Patrick forced a laugh, pressing the button and moving back to his machine as the track started rolling.

Pete watched his boyfriend’s feet running at almost inhuman speeds, before giving an uncomfortable laugh to fill the silence. “So… this thing goes faster?”

“A lot faster.” Patrick shrugged, hardly breaking a sweat. “You can turn it up, if you want. This is easy.”

Pete twisted the dial up to 30, before taking a seat on the stool. “Look, Sunshine, I just wanted to check in if you’re… okay…”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. You, uh, you didn’t seem to be doing so well back at the house today, and last night you woke up like 4 times, and yeah. You’re not talking to anyone about what’s going on, and I know that you like to keep up the tough guy thing, but you can’t ignore your feelings forever.”

“I’m not _ignoring_ my feelings, Pete.”

“Yes, you are.” Pete folded his arms. “The lawyers are talking about some heavy shit, dude, and you get all nervous and fidgety, and then you hurry through all you want to say before you move onto something else. You’re only hurting yourself, dude. You went through a lot. Nobody is judging you for being human.”

“Turn it up.”

“The treadmill?” 

“Yep.”

Pete turned the dial up to 40, before trying to pick emotion from Patrick’s face. He was clearly trying not to think about it, but if there was any place to try and make Patrick talk about anything, it was on the treadmill.

“Sunshine, please. I don’t want you dealing with more shit on your own, because you don’t _have_ to deal with it on your own anymore, okay?! You’re allowed to have emotions.”

Patrick glared at his boyfriend, before sighing and taking a sip from his water bottle. “Maybe, maybe I haven’t been _allowed_ to have emotions for so long that I’ve forgotten how to have them.”

“Well, it starts by not ignoring it.” Pete smiled, actually quite smitten that he was going to teach Patrick something for a change. “You gotta, let yourself experience everything, even if it isn’t nice. Because if you don’t let the sadness out in some way, then it’s just going to build itself up inside you until you get to breaking point. I know, they shoved me in a mental hospital because of it.”

“Pete, I just, I…” Patrick went to say something, but gulped and decided against. “Can you crank it up again? And not a bit. Like, a lot.”

“A-Are you sure? You’re going _really_ fast.”

“And I’ve gone a lot faster. It’s fine.”

Pete hesitantly turned it to 50, and after a glare from Patrick, up to 60. 

“It’s just a lot all at once, okay?” Patrick mumbled after a while. “A lot of these things… I try not to remember. And now I have to talk about them _all day_ and it’s just, stupid. If I can get through it faster, then I don’t have to dwell on it. Reliving these things isn’t fun.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“They wanted me to talk about bad things, Pete. Like failed drug trials that sent me up-the-wall crazy, or the times they would hurt me to see how fast I healed. And it’s not a long time, but I still feel the pain the same as everyone else. And, they just, they took advantage of my grief, you know? They, they told me that the deprivation study was planned before Mom died, right? They told me that, that I would be ruining her wishes if I didn’t do it. They _lied_ to me, and made me miss my own mother’s _funeral_ , in the name of _data_.”

Pete tried to put on his therapist face. “Yeah, see, there you go. That’s upsetting. You can’t ignore it, or it’s only going to get worse. You have to deal with it, or it’s only going to get worse.”

“She was the only one, Pete.” Patrick wiped his eyes. “She was the o-only one that ever stood up to them for me. Kevin, I love him, b-but he was too scared of me. Mom didn’t care that I’m just this, just _this_. She kept me safe for so _long_ and now I just-“

If this were a normal treadmill, and Patrick was running at a normal speed, that quarter of a second probably wouldn’t have made a huge difference. But this wasn’t an ordinary treadmill, and losing concentration to wipe your eyes was a deadly mistake. Patrick lost his footing, and the treadmill showed no mercy, flinging his body straight into the brick wall with a sickening _crunch_.

“PATRICK!” Pete pulled the kill switch before sprinting to his friend.

Gravity had worked in the way it was meant to, and Patrick now lay in a heap at the bottom of the brick wall. Pete quickly rolled him over so his face wasn’t in the floor, but it did nothing to hide the fact that the hit had knocked him out cold. 

All Pete’s mind was going to was the imagery of the bruising he’d presented with that night. He hadn’t been lying, it seemed. His treadmill did well and truly have the power to destroy him like that. 

Pete _really_ shouldn’t have kept turning that dial up.

He carried his boyfriend out to his car, and after gently lying him down in the backseat, called his mother to let her know what had happened and that he was coming home. 

“Pete,” Dale asked nervously. “How fast was he going?”

“I don’t know. The dial was, weird. He made me crank it up to 60.”

“60?!”

“I don’t know!” Pete defended. “He’s, he passed out but you can patch him up, right Mom?”

“Take him to the hospital.” She stammered. “I’ll meet you there.”

_“What?”_  
“Pete, if what I’ve read in that stupid folder is true, then he’s just been thrown into a brick wall at 60 miles an hour.” Dale explained quickly. “And if he’s unconscious, then something is very, _very_ , wrong.”


End file.
